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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058121">Only Scratches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowdancer21/pseuds/Yellowdancer21'>Yellowdancer21</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Isabela being Isabela (Dragon Age), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Varric Tethras, Rival Hawke, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:53:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowdancer21/pseuds/Yellowdancer21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is grieving for his mother and not coping well. When Varric gets badly injured on a job Hawke places the blame entirely on Anders, but Anders isn't coping very well himself, struggling to stay in control while Justice demands more from him every day. Varric and Isabela do their best to keep both of them from drowning without getting pulled under themselves, but before long Varric finds himself in deeper than he ever planned to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders &amp; Varric Tethras, Anders/Isabela (Dragon Age), Anders/Varric Tethras, Hawke/Isabela (Dragon Age), Isabela &amp; Varric Tethras</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's been a long time since I've written anything and even longer since I've posted anything new in this fandom, but my interest was recently rekindled and I found this sketch of an idea in one of my files. I never played as a Hawke who rivaled anyone because it always came across as somewhat abusive to me, but I'm also kind of fascinated by the idea. So this is an experiment in writing that kind of Hawke. And because I have missed Anders and Varric they both feature heavily in this piece with a little Isabela thrown in on the side.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hawke ranted the whole way back from the Wounded Coast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how many times Varric and Isabela tried to talk sense into him he refused to relent, and by the time they made it to Darktown his grumblings were almost more irritating to Varric than his own injuries. Those particular injuries had been the sparks to start the flame of Hawke’s ire, wounds that to their fearless leader’s mind would have been completely avoidable if a certain blond apostate had shown up at the meeting point on the edge of the city as expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him about the job,” Hawke said for what might have been the fiftieth time. “I told him that we needed a healer along to keep the team safe, that he should close the clinic early so he’d be well-rested for the trip. He said he’d do it. You both remember. He promised to put us first for once instead of his fool cause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, Hawke,” Isabela protested in a weary voice, long since giving up the term of endearment she usually used since Hawke was as far from being a sweet thing at the moment as a person could be, “It was hardly a solemn vow, and it’s not like vows matter much to Anders anyway since he broke the ones he made to the Wardens without looking back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke nodded, blue eyes spitting fire when he looked over at her. “You’re right. I don’t know why I expect anything different when he obviously can’t be trusted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela sighed and Varric cringed, unsurprised but still disappointed that Hawke warped her comment into support for his argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t ask for much,” Hawke continued in what he probably thought was a reasonable tone. “I let him run his little mage rescue operation without interference even though he knows I think it’s irresponsible at best and bloody dangerous at worst. The least he could do is give half as much attention to the people he claims are his friends, especially when our lives are on the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Varric nor Isabela pointed out that they had put their lives on the line for a bit of coin, nothing nearly as noble as Anders’ cause, problematic though it may be; they’d both made that point several times only to have it ignored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The clinic’s just ahead,” Varric noted, feeling more relieved to see the ugly facade of Anders’ Darktown shack than he had ever thought possible. “I can make it the rest of the way from here. Why don’t you go home and take a rest, Hawke?” He started to pull away from Hawke’s hold on his arm, but the man only gripped him more tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m coming with you. I want to see the look in that mage’s eyes when he has to face what his negligence has caused. He needs to understand that we almost lost a friend tonight because of his selfishness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke,” Varric said with a forced laugh. “I’m fine. Blondie’s probably been healing people all day who needed his help more than I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Hawke grumbled under his breath, Isabela exchanged a glance with Varric and then rolled her eyes as she walked ahead to open the door. But it didn’t budge. Tilting her head in surprise, she yanked at it more firmly and then took a step back, finally glancing at the lantern next to the door. “The light’s out. He must be asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is late,” Varric pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Hawke was furious, releasing Varric suddenly and charging forward to bang on the door. Varric protested, trailing after him with painful little hops, every step sending spasms of pain up his injured leg, but Hawke was intent on his goal. “I know you’re in there, Anders!” he shouted, his fists rattling the rotting wood and rusted metal. “Open up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Anders had been sleeping, he woke with astonishing speed since it wasn’t long before Varric could hear the thud of the locks releasing and the latch clicking. The sounds were barely audible over Hawke’s pounding, and he paused the barrage only when the door began to open, fist still raised high as if he planned to use it against the mage’s weary face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you?” Hawke demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders glanced at his fist and then back at Hawke, eyes narrowing. Then they widened in realization. “The job on the Wounded Coast.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if to wake himself up. “It slipped my mind. I’m sorry. A family of sick—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you would come along, Anders,” Hawke interrupted. “I trusted you and your absentmindedness nearly got us all killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally Anders was not the type to stand silently while someone railed against him, but he seemed to be too tired at the moment to put up a fight. Stunned by the irrational anger in Hawke’s voice, he stood frozen in the doorway, the angle setting his face into detailed relief against the dimly lit interior behind him. Varric could see bruises of exhaustion under his eyes, more stubble than usual shadowing his jaw, and suspected that they had just interrupted the first chance Anders had gotten to sleep in quite some time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Hawke continued as if Anders had protested. “You knew how dangerous this job was. Those slavers are no joke and there were twice as many of them as there were of us. Varric almost died!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flung an arm dramatically toward Varric and Anders’ gaze followed it with concern filling his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flushing at Hawke’s hyperbole, Varric protested, “Hawke! I blacked out for a moment or two, sure, but it was hardly life-threatening. I’m just a little banged up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focused entirely on his patient now, Anders pushed past Hawke to give Varric a hand and lead him inside. Isabela supported him from the other side and together they managed to maneuver him onto one of the cots while Hawke continued to glare from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Anders started inspecting Varric as soon as he was settled, a thread of magic probing over him along with his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see the wounds on your leg and chest,” Anders said as he gently lifted Varric’s leg onto the cot to give him better access to the injury; even with Anders’ light touch it hurt like hell and Varric winced. “Is there anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the worst of it,” Varric said through gritted teeth. “Everything else will heal on its own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything I can do?” Isabela asked Anders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at her as if he were startled at the offer of help. “We need to clean the wounds. There’s a basin on that table over there and clean towels next to it. Fill it with water and bring some towels.” She nodded and went to work, seemingly relieved to have a reason to escape Hawke’s glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders focused on the leg wound first, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he cut away the sad remnants of fabric from around Varric’s calf. Looking on mournfully, Varric wished he had chosen to wear a different pair of pants since there wasn’t going to be much left of his favorite pair of breeches once this was over. Magic danced over Anders’ fingertips as they hovered over Varric’s leg, but he worked in silence other than a few instructions to Isabela to clean the wound. As soon as the water hit the torn skin Varric stopped paying attention, a cry of pain escaping his lips before he could swallow it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give him something for the pain at least,” Hawke said sharply, and Varric had to admit that he was a little grateful for this particular complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve done what I can to numb the area,” Anders replied with utter calm even though the look in his eyes looked more akin to panic. “But there are a lot of nerve endings here. There’s only so much I can do.” Looking up at Varric, he frowned. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what you have to, Blondie. I can take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to block out the pain, Varric closed his eyes and ignored the rest of the healing process as best as he could, but the little stabs of pain like white hot fire kept ruining the illusion. He’d been healed dozens of times over the years and most of the time Anders’ treatment was nearly painless, but he supposed this injury had to be worse than he’d thought if it hurt this much to heal. When the agony finally let up long enough for Varric to draw a full breath, he opened his eyes and saw Anders pulling his hands away from the fresh, pink skin of his fully intact leg with a sigh as if he’d been holding his breath while he worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders looked worse for the effort, his skin so pale that it was nearly transparent and his expression shaken. Wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, Anders looked up at him with a faint smile. “Give me a minute to catch my breath and I’ll take a look at your shoulder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time. I’m not ready for the next round yet either.” Varric was surprised by the rawness of his own voice, realizing that he meant the words with every fiber of his being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up with a little wobble, Anders crossed the room to a shelf filled with tiny jars of liquid and dried herbs and glanced at Hawke briefly before turning his attention to the shelf. “That cut was deep. I was afraid for a moment there that I might not be able to save his leg.” Varric felt a chill race down his spine. No wonder the healing had been so bad. “It’s a good thing you got here when you did,” Anders added as he began searching the shelf for something, probably lyrium considering how much the healing had taken out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t have even been a problem if you had been there when it happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke,” Isabela said mildly. “What’s done is done. Varric’s all right now and that’s all that matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what matters is that I have a crew I can trust.” Hawke stalked across the room and grabbed Anders by the coat to turn him around and shove him back against the shelf, ignoring the crash of delicate bottles falling to the floor. “When you agree to do a job, I expect you to show up for it. If you can’t do that, then maybe I need to find a healer who actually can follow orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders’ brown eyes lit with a flicker of blue fire. “Maybe that’s exactly what you should do. I have responsibilities here. I can’t just drop them every time you call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric cursed under his breath and reached for Bianca when he saw Hawke’s hand draw back to strike Anders, but Isabela moved before the blow could land, deflecting it deftly and pulling Hawke away from the mage at the same time. “Surely this little spat can wait until Varric’s all patched up. Eh, Hawke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jabbing a finger at Anders instead, Hawke hissed, “All it would take is one word to the templars. One word. And your little game of playing healer to all the refugees is over, Anders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, time to go,” Isabela said decisively. “You need a stiff drink and good lay and you’ll feel better about everything.” She pushed Hawke back toward the door with all her strength and Hawke must have decided to let himself be moved because he didn’t stop her. Glancing over her shoulder at Varric, she said, “I’ll see you back at the Hanged Man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric nodded, a little worried when Hawke made a show of trying to block her at the door, but she managed to push him through somehow. When they were gone, Anders finally shook off his shock and hurried to shut the door, flipping the locks with anger in every motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke had always been a bit on the verge of crazy when he got angry, but this was a whole new level. He’d never threatened any of them directly before. Varric knew Isabela could handle just about anything, but he didn’t like the idea of her trying to calm Hawke down on her own when he was in this kind of a state. It was possible he would take his anger out on her instead. Varric was of half a mind to get up and follow them back just to keep an eye on Hawke even though he was pretty much worthless in his current state. Even with his leg patched back together he could hardly hold Bianca with the gash across his shoulder and he wasn’t much use without the crossbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Blondie?” he finally thought to ask when he realized that Anders hadn’t moved from the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes squeezed shut and chest rising and falling with labored breaths, Anders didn’t immediately respond. Scrubbing at his face and straightening, he shook his head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop. This is not your fault. And deep down even Hawke knows it. He’s just a controlling bastard who doesn’t like the idea that anything could be out of his reach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m well within reach,” Anders said softly. “No mage is safe as long as there are templars around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never let him go through with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric had given this scenario quite a bit of thought over the years. He didn’t actually expect Hawke to ever go through with betraying his friends to that degree, but Varric had been surprised before so he’d made contingency plans. For Blondie and Daisy. Even Isabela and Fenris. They all had points of vulnerability that someone with the kind of influence Hawke was gathering could try to use against them. But Varric had been gathering influence long before Hawke ever washed up on the shores of Kirkwall and he liked to play the long game. He had plans upon plans that he hoped he would never have to activate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders regarded him silently as if trying to decide if he was simply spouting platitudes or really meant what he’d said, but he finally nodded solemnly. “You know he was only so angry because you’re the one who got hurt. He knows this little band would fall apart without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric scoffed. “No. He was angry because he hates how much he depends on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bitter smile tugged at Anders’ lips. “Maybe you and I should start our own little gang since we’re both so essential.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think either of us has the stomach for that, Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Anders pushed away from the door and returned to the shelf. “Are you ready for ‘round two?’ You must still be in a lot of pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready if you are. You look about as awful as I feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning down at the broken bottles, Anders picked through them to collect the ones that were still intact and return them to the shelf. Opening a vial of blue liquid he drank it down quickly and tossed the bottle on the pile of broken glass with a wry expression. It shattered on impact. The gesture was unlike him but that was just one more sign of how exhausted he must have been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders pulled a chair closer to Varric’s cot and sat down with a weary sigh. This close Varric could see all the little lines around his eyes. “It should only take a few minutes for that to take effect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you slept, Blondie? I have a feeling you weren’t actually asleep when Hawke started banging on your door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A few days ago,” Anders admitted. “There has been a lot of fighting in the slums lately and the refugees always get caught in the middle. It’s all I can do to keep the clinic stocked and sanitary these days. The family I mentioned before got sick from some rotten foodstuffs and it took most of the day to get them back on their feet. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really need to get some assistants, Blondie. I might know a few people who’d be willing. I’ll send them your way. As for the supplies, I’ll see what I can do to restock at least as much as Hawke ruined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Expression softening around his eyes, Anders looked pained. “You don’t have to do that. I know you’re behind the anonymous deliveries I get every other week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric was a little surprised that Anders had figured it out, but he supposed it made things easier. “I do it because I can. So you can stop worrying.” The gratitude in Anders’ eyes made him a little uncomfortable so he looked away. “You about ready to finish this? I’m getting antsy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela had already done the painful work of cleaning the wound and Varric’s tunic—thankfully not his favorite one—was lying in tatters on the cot behind him, so all Anders had to do was lean forward and use a cleansing spell to fully disinfect the area before he got to work. Pinpricks of pain tingled over Varric’s back and shoulder, but this healing was much more tolerable than the first one. Still, he was worn out by it all, not to mention the long journey from the coast, so he was more than relieved when Anders finally sat back to inspect his work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lift your arm for me,” he instructed and Varric did as he was told, bracing himself for pain, but found that the movement would have been easy if he hadn’t been so tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do excellent work,” he marveled. “There’s barely even a scratch left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders seemed every bit as relieved as Varric was. He also seemed so drained he might fall asleep in the chair right then, his eyes blinking sluggishly as if he could hardly keep them open. “You should probably stay here tonight,” he said. “A lot of the energy from that healing came from you and Darktown isn’t the kind of place to wander around alone when you’re tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a bad idea.” Varric chuckled. “You look like you’re about to fall over, Blondie. About time for you to pull up a cot too, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders glanced at the mess on the floor in front of the shelf and Varric leaned forward to nudge him toward the cot beside him. “What? Are you afraid the rats will cut their little feet? It can wait until morning. Get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally nodding, Anders sat down on the cot and lay back, his body going slack almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Varric watched him with a bit of amusement while he settled back on his own cot, expecting to drift off just as easily, but he found that the healing had actually invigorated him more than it relaxed him. And now that everything had calmed down he had nothing to do but think about how frustrated he was with Hawke’s behavior and wonder if his plans were enough.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't think I've ever written about a darkspawn dream, so I decided to give it a try here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The screams were inhuman, stretching beyond the decibels a human throat could create, screeching, monstrous cries that shredded his eardrums and clawed at his spine. They were sickeningly loud, interfering with his equilibrium and setting the world into a nauseating spin, red and black throbbing hot and cold across his vision as he stumbled through the dark. The walls were close and damp, drawing closer with every step and he clawed at the jagged rock in his rush to escape, feeling the blood on his hands as the stones cut him and not caring because all he knew was that he needed to get away, needed to flee the horrible sound filling his mind. He caught a glimpse of the demon out of the corner of his eye, a dragon’s maw opened wide with another scream. Heart pounding hard in his chest, he fought the pull of that sound as it tugged at him and tried to make him turn back, calling him with an nearly undeniable force. No matter how far he ran, he knew that it owned him and there was nothing he could do to ever truly escape its call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie! Blondie, wake up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders woke to the feeling of someone shaking him firmly awake. His throat was raw from screaming in his sleep, but his vision quickly focused on the shirtless dwarf sitting on the cot beside him. “Varric?” he gasped roughly, fear still pumping through his veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Concern softening every angle of his face, Varric replied, “I guess I’m reassured that you even recognize me after all that. Bad dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing hard, Anders went limp in Varric’s grip and tried to calm his racing heart. “Darkspawn dream. Worst part about being a Grey Warden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maferath’s balls,” Varric said in a shaky voice, releasing him reluctantly as if he was afraid Anders might start screaming again as soon as he let go. “I’ve never heard you—or anyone, really—make a sound like that before. I thought Hawke had come back and decided to murder you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Usually Justice keeps the dreams at bay, but he helped me with healing all day and he’s just as exhausted as I am.” Anders shivered feverishly as the remnants of the dream slowly faded. “I haven’t had one in a long time. I forgot how horrid they are.” When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Varric was looking equally as shaken as he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need anything? Glass of water? Something stronger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid all I have is water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders mourned the dwarf’s warmth when he left to get the drink, shivering under the threadbare blanket while he waited. When Varric returned, he took the glass with trembling hands and drank it down in one long draft, feeling as if the moisture was barely doing anything for his raw throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” Varric asked, taking the empty glass and setting it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “A little.” It felt strange to be lying on a cot in his clinic while someone else tended to him, but Anders was too tired to dwell on the strangeness for very long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you handle the dreams when you were with the wardens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders shrugged. “They usually hit us all at the same time. Sometimes we’d get up and play games or drink until dawn to forget. But the only thing that ever made me feel better was physical contact. I needed to know I wasn’t alone.” He glanced up at Varric self-consciously when he realized how that sounded, but the dwarf was watching him neutrally, not even a hint of amusement in his eyes. “But now I have Justice,” Anders said lamely, “So I’m never really alone, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm. So, how strong do you think these cots are?” Varric tapped the leg of the cot with his toe, a thoughtful expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking in confusion, Anders shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re pretty sturdy. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think it can hold us both?” Varric was already sitting down on the edge of the bed again and wiggling a bit to see how much the cot protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varric,” Anders said, swallowing around the lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make room,” he said, nudging Anders onto his side so that he could lie down behind him. The cot creaked at the extra weight but held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing Varric was lying on top of the blanket, Anders tried to pull it free so that he could pull it over them both. “Aren’t you cold?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not particularly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric shifted around as he tried to get comfortable, but the cot was barely big enough to hold them both and the only position that really worked was for him to spoon Anders and wrap an arm around his waist so that neither of them would roll off onto the floor. Amused at the fact that he was acting as the little spoon in this scenario in spite of their height difference, Anders settled back against the dwarf’s warmth with a smile. But he was also tempted to look over his shoulder to see his friend’s face. Varric had never struck him as the type to be comfortable with such casual intimacy. Anders, on the other hand, had few compunctions about intimacy in general. Growing up in the circle, any physical contact, platonic or otherwise, was a welcome relief from the constant scrutiny and isolation. Justice often seemed puzzled by his cravings for touch, but recognized that Anders suffered if he went too long without it, allowing him to indulge occasionally without complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Blondie,” Varric muttered against his shoulder, seemingly unbothered by any potential implications of their situation. “You’re bony under all those feathers. I’m going to have to make sure you eat more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about how Varric had started his visit to the clinic in such desperate need of help, Anders found it remarkable how thoroughly their positions had reversed. But Varric was a natural at taking care of others. Most of the time he did it secretly, as in the case of the anonymous deliveries, and went to great lengths to avoid having his work recognized. Perhaps that was what made this gesture feel more significant somehow. Varric rarely intervened so directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, Blondie,” Varric said drowsily. “I can feel you still thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Anders lied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric poked him lightly in the stomach. “Yes, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not sure what to say to that, Anders fell back on his usual defense: talking. “Just remembering,” he said, his thoughts drifting without direction as he continued. “Nate used to hold me like this when I had a particularly bad dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nate?” Varric’s voice had acquired an edge, but Anders was too tired to make a guess at whether it was curiosity or something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the other wardens. Nathaniel Howe. He found me irritating most of the time, but I guess he found me even more irritating when I babbled nervously. This was the only thing that ever shut me up after a nightmare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” Varric said dryly. “Doesn’t seem to be working for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders laughed, realizing he was right. Then another thought occurred to him and he found himself voicing it before he considered all the reasons that it probably wasn’t a good idea. “Come to think of it, Karl used to do the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric had gone tense now and it was Anders’ turn to feel him thinking. “Are you trying to tell me something, Blondie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Anders said quickly. “I guess I’m just grateful. It’s been a long time since anyone held me like this. I appreciate it.” But Varric didn’t relax against him. Anders must have made him uncomfortable by pointing out the intimacy of the situation. Why did he always have to push things? Couldn’t he just accept the comfort without analyzing it? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” To what? How did he even finish that sentence without making things worse? “I’m sorry.” Suddenly a darkspawn dream wasn’t the biggest concern on his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Varric sighed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his relief Varric didn’t say another word, and after a while his arm went limp around Anders’ waist and his breathing deepened, tickling the hairs on the back of Anders’ neck with every exhale. Anders felt himself drifting off as well, unable to hold onto a single worry as he sank into the bliss of feeling warm and protected. Maybe Varric wouldn’t even remember this conversation in the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>*</span>       <span>*</span>       <span>*</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Varric woke up feeling cold and achy all over, his left arm numb underneath him while the right was wrapped tightly around...someone. That someone had long hair that tickled his nose and smelled vaguely of elfroot. Eyes blinking open fitfully, he had to try several times before he could manage to keep them open long enough to make sense of what he was seeing. Blond hair above a long, pale neck. Feathered pauldrons. A scar just behind his ear. A dimple in his earlobe. For an earring? Huh. He’d never noticed that before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched at the sound of the voice, husky and warm with humor, but not attached to the man nestled against him. The man...nestled against him. But that description only reminded him of the strange conversation he’d had with Anders in the middle of the night. With the stricken look on the mage’s face and the sound of his pained cries still ringing in Varric’s ears, it had seemed like the obvious choice to crawl onto Anders’ cot and hold him until he fell asleep. At least until Anders had started comparing him to his former lovers. Granted, Varric didn’t know that the Nate fellow had been a lover, but he knew for certain that Karl had been. In the middle of the night his own motives had felt so innocent that he had found the comparison jarring, but in the light of day he was not so sure about the purity of his own intentions. And Isabela’s comments weren’t helping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The two of you make an awful pretty picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his head enough to see over Anders’ broad shoulder, Varric grimaced when he saw the pirate leering giddily at them both. “Rivaini. It’s not what it looks like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Because it looks like half of my friend fiction come true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Varric was fully awake now and trying to push himself up on his elbow in spite of the pins and needles in the limb as it regained circulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like he patched you up,” Isabela observed, ignoring his question. “When you didn’t come back I started to get worried. Then I realized Anders wouldn’t let you go home a mess. But only in my wildest dreams would I have expected to find the two of you all cuddled up together. ” Tilting her head to look closer at the sleeping mage, she added thoughtfully, “He’s really sleeping like a baby, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down at Anders, Varric realized she was right. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him look so peaceful. As much as Varric wanted to flee the situation and whatever it implied about his own feelings toward the mage, he was reluctant to move away for fear of disturbing Anders’ hard-earned rest. “He had a nightmare,” Varric said by way of explanation, but he could tell by Isabela’s grin that she wasn’t buying it. “Hey, we all had a rough day yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not wrong about that. Hawke was being such an asshole. I had to get him blind drunk before he would stop ranting and raving. He’s probably sleeping it off still.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Anders again. “Do you think we need to worry about the two of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think Hawke would actually turn him in, but I don’t know. He’s been unpredictable ever since his mother died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Do you keep eyes on this place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one who can stop Hawke. But they keep me informed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regarding Anders with uncharacteristic worry in her eyes, she said, “Justice will protect him. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric felt a queasy feeling twist in his heart as he studied the mage. “We should probably do what we can to make sure he and Hawke aren’t alone together for a while. Just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded as if the topic was settled. “Brought you a change of clothes,” she said, gesturing to the pile of clothes on the cot next to her. “Figured your other ones were a lost cause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Looking at the clothes gratefully, he decided it was time to get up. He eased off the cot slowly trying to disturb Anders as little as possible, but the mage rolled toward him as he retreated, falling onto his back and frowning a little in his sleep. Varric tucked the blanket back around him without thinking but regretted the decision when he saw the glee in Isabela’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, he snatched his clothes and started to dress, knowing it would be pointless to ask her to avert her eyes while he changed. What he hadn’t expected was to find Anders awake and staring at him as well when he turned around even though the expression he wore was honest concern rather than lust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still have some nasty cuts on your back,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Let me take a look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save your energy, Blondie. I didn’t even notice them,” Varric lied, adjusting the sash around his waist and trying not to wince at all the little aches and pains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep well, Anders?” Isabela asked with a smile so evident in her voice that he didn’t need to look at her to confirm the expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing over to see Anders’ reaction, Varric was dismayed to see that the mage gave her a lopsided smile, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I did. Very well, in fact.” Varric wasn’t sure how to interpret that or even if he should be reading anything into it, but he was determined to act as if he hadn’t heard it at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up and stretching with a yawn, Anders asked Isabela, “How did you get in? I hope you only picked the locks and didn’t break them this time. Locks are expensive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was gentle,” she replied, still grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of things that had been less than gentle, Varric glanced at the broken glass on the floor from Hawke’s outburst the night before and thought about Anders cleaning it up by himself alone in the clinic and getting ready for more patients when he was still drained from several days with too much work and inadequate sleep. “How about leaving the clinic closed for the day and joining us at the Hanged Man, Blondie?” He thought that the suggestion might also help to smooth over the tension that had developed between them, a nice, friendly offer with a third party along to keep things easily platonic. Then he remembered who the third party was and was tempted to slap himself in the forehead. Isabla was probably the world’s worst chaperone. And she was already having naughty thoughts about the two of them, thoughts she had even committed to writing if her comments about friend fiction could be believed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around the clinic with a slightly guilty expression, Anders seemed on the verge of saying no, but Isabela jumped in to convince him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good idea. I have a bottle of the strong stuff with your name on it, Anders. I’ve heard Grey Wardens like it that way. Is that why you never drink much of the piss water Corff serves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not why. I used to drink everyone else under the table before I joined with Justice. But he doesn’t like it when I drink too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you always let Blue and Glowy make your decisions for you? I thought you were letting him share your body, not hold you hostage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rivaini,” Varric said with warning in his voice. “Can we not poke the angry spirit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Anders laughed at that. “I think Justice is still too drained from all the healing I did yesterday to interfere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean we might be able to get you drunk?” She looked excited at the prospect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders considered that with a slow smile that made something in Varric’s gut twist with unexpected heat. “You can try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Challenge accepted,” Isabela said, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her knees. “And Hawke won’t be likely to show his face before evening, so our goal is to get good and shit-faced before that happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A twinge of doubt crossed Anders’ face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Blondie,” Varric said before he could change his mind. “We’ve got your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of us more literally than others,” Isabela added, waggling her brows and slapping Varric on the ass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, Rivaini? Is that any way to treat a friend who almost died yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Isabela only cackled all the way to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Varric turned his attention back to Anders he was smiling, a wistful little smile that did nothing to calm Varric’s nerves. Why exactly had he thought this was such a great idea?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This little story idea continues to inspire me even though I have no idea where it's going and the plot has the potential to seem a bit soap opera if I'm not careful. But I've missed these characters enough that I don't mind. Let me know if you have related ideas you'd like to see me explore. I'm just kind of stumbling in the dark at the moment.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anders insisted on cleaning himself up a bit before they left the clinic as if they were going to some fancy place in High Town rather than a dirty hole-in-the-wall in Low Town, but Varric had to admit the fresh clothes (even though they were still tucked beneath the same old ratty coat), washed hair and clean shaven jaw made him look less frayed around the edges. Isabela led the way across town, regaling them with ridiculous tales of her recent exploits that had both of them holding their sides by the time they made it to the Hanged Man. Varric couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Anders laugh so much—or laughed so much himself—and he wasn’t sure what it was about the situation that made the atmosphere so intoxicating even before they started drinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they started drinking soon enough. Soon they were settled at Varric's place working their way through a dusty old bottle of booze that Isabela had probably found in some noble's basement. It tasted even worse than it looked but it packed a punch and a half. They played Wicked Grace until they started having trouble making out the cards, switching then to simpler games that mostly involved embarrassing self-disclosure and more drinking. They learned that Isabela had a pet parrot when she was a child but never when she was actually a pirate, and that Anders was double-jointed. This second revelation piqued Isabela's interest enough to make both Varric and Anders a little uncomfortable as she started asking him all kinds of loosely related and highly inappropriate questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he’d disclosed very little during the game, Varric had drank the most and was therefore the one sent to retrieve more drinks as soon as the bottle had run dry. He hadn’t planned on being gone long, just long enough to run down to the bar and put in an order, but the Hanged Man was busy for this time of day and it took him a while to wade through the crowd. By the time he returned, the atmosphere had changed significantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far they had all been hanging onto the edge of drunkenness without falling over the side, but it was obvious that both Isabela and Anders were perilously close now given the scene that greeted him as soon as he walked through the door. Standing on the threshold and feeling like an intruder in his own room, he gaped at the pair of them, Isabela perched on Anders’ lap and murmuring something into his ear while his hands slipped up her thighs and landed somewhere south of chaste. In spite of the buzz still clouding his thoughts, Varric was surprised. Not by Isabela. She could end up on anyone’s lap by the end of an evening—had even landed on Varric’s once or twice as well, her fingers twisted in his chest hair like she’d won a prize—but Anders didn’t usually engage with her flirtation. Normally he’d laugh off her touches and keep her at arm’s reach. Varric had always assumed he either wasn’t interested or the spirit sharing his body disapproved, but Anders was exhibiting none of his usual hesitation now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You only want me for my magic,” Anders complained mildly while Isabela arched up against him like a cat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's not my only motive, sweet thing. But it certainly helps. I’ve never met a mage before or since who could put their magical skills to such creative uses as you do. All I’m asking for is another taste.” She dipped her head lower and nipped at his lips. Once. Twice. Firelight caught in a glimpse of tongue in between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Anders responded, his hands sliding around her back as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that was so confident and practiced that even Isabela seemed startled, making a pleased sound that went straight to Varric’s groin. The visual was compelling enough that he found himself watching longer than he probably should have, but they were both such experts at the act that it was more like watching a performance than a private moment between lovers. Not to say that it was without passion since neither of them seemed to be holding much back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strangled sound escaped Isabela’s lips when Anders’ hand brushed over her spine, fingers lit with a flicker of electricity, and Varric quickly averted his eyes, face flushing in embarrassment at his voyeuristic enjoyment of their display. A small, petty part of him was annoyed that they seemed to have forgotten about him entirely even though they were currently making out in his apartment, but then he reminded himself how awful Anders had looked the night before and how badly he deserved a break. If Isabela could give him what he needed, who was Varric to judge? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Retreating into the hall, he pulled the door shut behind him and almost escaped unnoticed. But just before the door closed, he heard Isabela ask in a thready voice, “Varric?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, surprised by the strain in his own voice. “I’ll be down in the common room. Come get me when you’re done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get back in here,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll be good. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself,” Anders said with a shaky laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush. You’re almost always good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric deliberated with his hand still resting on the doorknob. He could go back in and awkwardly try to get the conversation going again while the two of them shot each other hungry looks and tried to come down from their hormone high. Or he could end up getting sucked into their shenanigans as he suspected Isabela was hoping, acting as the other slice of bread in an Anders sandwich. Shaking off that thought while filing the language away for use in a future novel, he decided it was too dangerous to go back inside. Far safer to flee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You two have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked shut and he did his best not to imagine what was happening on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The common room was still crowded, but he managed to find a table in the corner where he could hide and pretend everything was fine. But when the front door opened to admit Hawke and three of his friends and he cringed inwardly. Waving at Hawke, he called him over to his table before he could stomp upstairs and discover the spectacle that was still burned into Varric’s retinas. Merrill followed with a skip to her steps while Fenris and Aveline drifted behind them sullenly. The fact that they were all together seemed to indicate they had just gotten back from a job and Varric was surprised that Hawke had managed to set something up so quickly when he was still hungover, assuming Isabela’s account of the previous night could be trusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s my favorite dwarf?” Hawke asked in a loud voice, and he was either still a little drunk or he had started working on a second drunk to bury the remnants of his hangover. “All better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good as new,” Varric replied, glancing at Aveline with an arched brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and crossed her arms over her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stay long,” Fenris announced as if someone had asked, sitting down at the table and waving impatiently at Corff to send over a mug of ale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor can I,” Aveline agreed, remaining standing. “I have to meet up with one of the night patrols before they head out.” She nodded at Varric, “But it’s good to see that you’ve recovered. Hawke couldn’t stop talking about your disastrous trip to the Wounded Coast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you hurt very badly?” Merrill asked with bright eyes, perching on the edge of the chair next to Hawke and leaning as far forward as she could without falling off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh desperately,” Varric said with a dramatic wave of his hand, “But nothing that our fearless healer couldn’t manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke scoffed at that and rolled his eyes so hard that it actually looked painful. “What are you doing down here anyway, Varric?” he asked, looking around at the crowded room. “This place is giving me a headache. Maybe we should head up to your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric doubted it was only the noise giving him a headache, but he smiled and did some quick thinking—which was harder than usual given the alcohol-induced sluggishness of his brain. “I had to vacate my room for the moment...while the cleaners do their work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cleaners.” Aveline chuckled. “I doubt a place like this has housekeeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Varric admitted. “But I hire a cleaner to keep things tidy.” This was actually the truth except for the fact that it had nothing to do with why he wasn’t in his room at the moment. His apartment’s current occupants were much more likely to make a mess of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exciting,” Merrill said, the only one at the table who seemed to share this opinion. “Maybe I should hire them to clean my place. I’m so bad at keeping it up. Would they make a trip to the alienage do you think? Oh, but maybe that’s where they’re from?” She looked dismayed and Varric felt guilty because his cleaner actually was an elf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Isabela?” Hawke asked, looking toward the bar with an expectant expression. “Usually she’s down here by this time of day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Am I her keeper?” Varric said with a laugh. “We might both live here but that doesn’t mean we keep tabs on each other at all times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should really get going,” Aveline said, obviously bored by the conversation, but her eyes narrowed when she returned her attention to Hawke. “Aren’t you tired, Hawke? Sounds like you were up pretty late last night and we’ve been taking care of bandits in the sewers most of the day. Maybe you should call it an early night too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll just wait for Isabela,” Hawke replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Aveline exchanged a look with Varric and he nodded. Ever since his mother had died, Hawke had been less than stable and Varric, Aveline and Isabela had been taking turns keeping an eye on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris got up to follow her without a word, leaving only his empty mug behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is everyone leaving?” Merrill said, looking uncertain. “Maybe I should go too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you want to, Daisy.” Varric didn’t actually want her to go because once she was gone it would be just him and Hawke and he wasn’t sure if he was up for a conversation with him at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Hawke and then around at the crowd and nodded, “Maybe I should go home and clean my place. It is pretty dirty.” Hopping up, she waved. “See you later!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s weird that Isabela’s not down here,” Hawke said, not even acknowledging Merrill’s departure. “Have you seen her hanging around anyone new?” he asked Varric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Varric shook his head. “Again, not her keeper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you notice everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing nervously, Varric said, “That doesn’t mean I tell everything I see. Rivaini’s business is her own. I try to stay out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then there is someone.” Hawke sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was Varric’s turn to roll his eyes. He would never understand how Hawke could be such a fool as to feel possessive about someone like Isabela, a woman who so clearly refused to be possessed. “Isn’t there always someone? About every other day by my count.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This didn’t make Hawke any happier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, Hawke,” Varric said with no real plan for what he was going to say after that. “Rivaini isn’t the type to be satisfied. By anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or anyone,” Varric agreed. “You can’t take it personally.” Tapping a hand against the table, he wished that he would have brought a deck of cards down with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he was forced to come up with something else to distract Hawke, he looked up to see the topic of their conversation descending the stairs and heading toward them. Isabela was practically glowing and Varric suppressed a sigh. As she came closer and wrapped her arms around Hawke’s shoulders in the sort of greeting that made her intentions obvious, he could only hope that Hawke was too distracted to notice anything else.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Isabela was disappointed that Varric refused to join them but not very surprised. As lovely as he was, he was not a man of action, and his dedication to his absent woman was achingly sweet even if it was also utterly infuriating. She’d looked into it some, enough to know that there was a real Bianca and that there were circumstances beyond their control that kept them apart. It was a tragedy, really. Varric was so much fun otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of men who could be fun in the right circumstances, she returned her attention to Anders. He was more himself today than she had seen him in Kirkwall, the spirit’s presence a distant influence rather than a constant killjoy. Here was the amorous mage she remembered from the Pearl, all coy grins and clever fingers, and as much as she was trying to keep her feelings out of the thing it was hard to revel in his touches without mourning the fact that this might be her only opportunity to do so. Justice kept him under lock and key and until now she had found that lock to be beyond her skills as a rogue to break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex with Anders was refreshingly easy. There was no need to guide him through the steps or chase her own pleasure on the side while he single-mindedly pursued his. Unlike Hawke or her typical partner of late, Anders had nearly as much experience as she did, and he’d obviously made the most of that experience to learn what worked best and how to pay attention to his partner’s needs while still indulging his own. He seemed to instinctively sense what she wanted and provide it before the thought even occurred to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivering beneath him, she tried not to let herself think at all. Better to stay in the moment and just enjoy it. Normally she preferred to be on top and call all the shots, but she decided to cede the position to him, curious to see what he would do with it and enjoying the fact that she actually trusted him to get things right without any intervention. He wasn’t the best lay she’d had in every single way—no one could meet all her expectations perfectly since she liked too many things, many of which were impossible to simultaneously attain in the same encounter—but he was certainly in the top ten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As guests in Varric’s room, they didn’t presume to take undue advantage of his hospitality by using his bed. The table was more than adequate for their purposes and while Isabela wanted to take her time and taste everything that Anders had to offer she felt pressure to take what she could get before his spirit woke up and ruined everything. On some level Anders seemed to be thinking the same thing, and while he didn’t rush he also didn’t linger over anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they had both finished, tangled together atop the table and sticky with perspiration among other things, she took a moment to brush damp hair out of Anders’ face and really study him. She’d never seen him look so relaxed. Even in the Pearl he’d had an anxious energy to him, the fear of being captured, and while that anxiety could add to the excitement in terms of intensity it was also a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was fun,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “Want to take this back to my room and try a few other things?” She’d considered moving their activities as soon as Varric left them alone in his room, feeling a little guilty about taking advantage of his generosity when she had clearly seen how tender he was regarding Anders. But she’d been afraid to do anything that might slow them down or give Anders the chance to have second thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crease that formed between his brows now suggested that her instincts had been correct. Giving her a sad look, he smiled, a bittersweet heartbreak of an expression, and said, “We’d better not. I can feel Justice stirring in the back of my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> As much as she wanted to criticize his allowance for the spirit’s preferences, she decided to keep her mouth shut. Cupping his face between her hands she pulled him into a languid, longing sort of kiss. Not her usual style, but she was feeling more sentimental than usual and this approach actually suited him rather well. When the kiss broke under its own weight, he pulled away and offered her a hand up, ever the gentleman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, she began collecting her clothing and making herself decent—at least as decent as she ever was. “Next time that spirit gives you a break, I hope you’ll come see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging into his shirt, Anders nodded with a maudlin smile. “Thank you, Isabela. I...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That emotion was one she didn’t need, so she stopped him before he could finish by pressing another kiss against his lips, this one almost chaste. “I’ll see you around,” she said with a smile, patting his shoulder kindly and hurrying out into the hall before he could say anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Body still thrumming as she descended the stairs on rubbery legs, she realized that as thorough of a lover as Anders was, he had left her hungry for more. This was greed, she knew, and asking for more than she deserved, but when had that ever stopped her? Looking around for Varric, her gaze snagged on Hawke and she felt a bitter smile twist her lips. Using Hawke to fill the void Anders had left her with was probably a horrible idea, but he could probably use the comfort even more than she could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding her arms around Hawke’s broad shoulders, she nibbled at his ear and said in a voice that she knew was sure to go straight to the object of her desire, “Evening, sweet thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve as he turned to look at her. “Bela. You’re eager tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One look at the fire in his eyes made her realize that he thought she had been waiting for him, that this hunger was for him alone. She felt Varric’s eyes on her, but refused to look at him, knowing that he would only make her feel guiltier than she already did. Hiding her feelings behind a kiss, she quickly lost herself in Hawke’s desire and waved at Varric half-heartedly as she dragged Hawke behind her toward her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you later, Varric,” Hawke said over his shoulder, his voice smug as his arm snaked possessively around her waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could barely hear Varric’s voice over the din of the room, but she had sharp ears and the dry words didn’t escape her as he muttered, “Yeah. Later.”</span>
</p><p><span>*</span> <span>*</span> <span>*</span></p><p>
  <span>Anders was shrugging into his coat when Varric returned to his room. The mage’s hair was a bit mussed and his face flushed with more color than Varric had seen on him perhaps ever, but he only looked a little sheepish when he glanced at Varric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that,” he said quickly. “It was rude of us to…” he gestured at the room and then let his hand fall to his side in embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips pursed, Varric nodded slowly and tried to ignore the lingering scent of their passion on the air. He wondered if he had a candle somewhere that would help to cover it. “Glad you were able to let your hair down, Blondie. If anyone ever needed it, you did.” He felt Anders watching him as he dug through a chest at the foot of his bed in search of a candle. Giving up, he sighed and settled for standing in front of the fireplace where the only scent was the smell of burning wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke finally made an appearance,” he heard himself saying, “so you might want to make yourself scarce.” The words came out colder than he intended them. Or maybe they came out exactly as he intended and it was just that he wished he had different intentions. He didn’t actually want to make Anders uncomfortable, but he was having a hard time with the whole situation at the moment and needed some space to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varric? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn Anders and his perceptiveness. “I’m just tired, Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you are,” Anders said with so much understanding that it was painful to hear given Varric’s rather uncharitable feelings toward him at the moment. But Anders’ tone was suddenly that of a healer talking to a patient. “You are still recovering and we kicked you out of your home. I should have told Isabela no, or at least suggested we go somewhere else.” Trailing off awkwardly, he shuffled on his feet and Varric could tell because of the sound of fabric shifting not because he saw the movement. He was stubbornly refusing to look at the mage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms crossed over his chest, Varric continued to stare into the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the Hanged Man have another exit?” Anders asked. “I really don’t want to run into Hawke on my way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little chance of that,” Varric scoffed, “unless you take a detour through Isabela’s room.” As soon as he said the words he wanted to take them back. What was he trying to prove? And why was he taking his frustration with all of them out on Anders alone? Simply because he was there to take it? Maybe what he had said about being tired was truer than he’d like to admit. This sort of pettiness wasn’t like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I turned down her offer, then.” Anders' voice was cool, but thoughtful rather than pained. Was it possible Anders had known exactly what he was doing when he hooked up with Isabela? With all the other ways in which the mage was vulnerable, Varric tended to forget that Anders was no fool when it came to this sort of thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiosity finally winning out over stubbornness, Varric turned to look at Anders and confirm that there was no trace of bitterness in his expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing his attention, Anders shifted to meet his eyes. “She invited me back to her room,” he explained even though Varric hadn’t asked or wanted to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that would have ended badly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders nodded. “I’m sure I’ll have enough hell to pay with Justice over this anyway. Between the drinking and the loose morals he’s going to be furious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric didn’t like the sound of that, but all he said was, “The two of you have a complicated relationship.” What he really wanted to call it was toxic. “Do you regret it?” he asked, meaning Anders’ joining with Justice, not sleeping with Isabela, but after he said it he realized that his meaning was unclear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing hard and looking away, Anders smiled sadly. “Too late to regret it now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric had no idea which question that answered but it could have worked for either. Or both. “Is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders avoided that question with another smile, but this one was like a wall, a barrier to keep his true feelings at bay. “I should probably be going. Thanks for everything, Varric. And I’m...sorry about earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric watched him go without even a parting word, but as soon as he was alone in the room he felt all the weight of the last several days land on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate the holiday. Here's a little gift. I've figured out how long the story is going to be and have a road map to follow so I hope to post fairly regularly over the next few weeks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next few weeks passed in a blur for Anders. Justice was every bit as furious with him as he’d expected, piling on the guilt for his frivolous behavior and driving him to keep working with almost no concessions to his needs for sleep or sustenance. Anders worked all day in the clinic, coordinated rescue attempts with his contacts in the resistance at night and filled the rest of the time mixing potions and prepping for the following day with only a few hours for sleep in between. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d used the rise in Darktown violence and increase in patients as the excuse for his poor sleep patterns, but Justice had more to do with the neglect than he had wanted to admit. The lines between them were blurring more and more every day, and when Anders looked at his haggard features in the cracked mirror over the sink he hardly recognized the face he saw looking back at him. His encounter with Isabela and the stark reminder of who he used to be had only made the difference more obvious and he found himself mourning that broken but undaunted Anders. He had run away from everything challenging: the Circle, the Wardens, responsibility, duty. But he had also refused to look back or allow his losses to prevent him from making the most out of life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he’d met Justice. Filled with the glee of finally escaping the Circle once and for all, he had felt invincible, but Justice’s constant criticism of his selfishness slowly wore him down. And Justice himself had been above reproach, admirable in his purity and desire to help others. Anders came to respect him while they worked together with the wardens, and when it became obvious that Justice was fading, that he would not be able to survive without help, Anders had been unable to run away for what might have been the first time in his life. All along he had known that his actions had consequences even if he refused to stick around long enough to witness them, but the consequences of his decision to join with Justice were neverending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Anders splashed water in his face and closed his eyes. He hadn’t seen any of his friends since that night at the Hanged Man. While he hadn’t expected Hawke to show his face after their argument, he had half expected Isabela to stop by and at least attempt to seduce him again. He was relieved that she had kept her distance since he knew he would have to refuse, but it was strange for Varric to go so long without making an appearance. The dwarf always seemed to know when he’d been working too hard and would stop by to invite him out for a drink and a game of cards. But he hadn’t shown his face since that night either. True to his word, he had sent an extra shipment of supplies and also sent a few volunteers to help out around the clinic, but Anders turned them all away. Justice was too unstable these days for him to feel comfortable having anyone around consistently and he preferred staying busy. It kept him from thinking too much about anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things like Ser Alrik and his “Tranquil Solution.” He’d learned of the templar’s plans during a rescue attempt the previous night and the very thought of it had sickened him. He still vividly remembered the vacant look in Karl’s eyes after he’d been made tranquil and the thought never ceased to light a fury in him that rivaled Justice’s own anger. But Justice was angry enough about this situation without encouragement. Anders had felt him pacing in his mind ever since they heard the story, rattling the bars of Anders’ mind like a caged predator eager to break free. Anders didn’t know how much longer he could hold him back. He would have to do something soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing at his aching eyes, Anders trudged across the clinic wearily and decided it was about time to open up for the day. He went still when he saw the dwarf standing just inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded Anders with an appraising look. “Varric?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like shit, Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could respond, the clinic door swung open to admit Hawke and Fenris. “Good work on the locks, Varric,” Hawke said. “We don’t need to draw any more attention to ourselves by banging on the door.” He stopped when he saw Anders, blinking at him thoughtfully before looking away. “Anders. How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders felt a laugh tickle at his chest but he held it in. Hawke wasn’t usually the type for polite conversation, but the fact he was trying meant that he knew he had been out of line before. “What do you want?” Anders wasn’t feeling the same compulsion for small talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke arched his brows and then sighed. “I need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were going to replace me with a mage who behaved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if one exists,” Fenris muttered under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Hawke gave Fenris a look and shook his head. “Listen, I know I overreacted before. You’re the best healer in this city and in high demand. I can’t expect you to rearrange your schedule every time I ask, but this time I really do need your help. And I think you’ll actually want to help on this job once you find out what it is. So, are you willing to work with me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris scowled and it was obvious that he would be happy to hear Anders refuse. Normally, the elf’s critical opinions would be enough to make Anders help Hawke just to spite him, but he worried that his equilibrium with Justice was too fragile at the moment to risk using his powers in a fight. Returning his attention to Hawke, he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t leave the clinic right now. I have too much work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger flared in Hawke’s eyes along with a hint of a darker emotion that looked suspiciously like guilt, but his posture was all aggression when he took a step toward Anders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me talk to him, Hawke,” Varric said gently, grabbing his arm to hold him back. “Give us a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaw tight, Hawke nodded tersely and turned on his heel, Fenris following closely behind as he left the clinic and slammed the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avoiding Varric’s gaze, Anders turned and walked over to the table where he had been mixing potions the night before. Busying himself with collecting the raw ingredients and putting them away, he tried to ignore Varric’s footsteps as he moved closer. Justice was lecturing him about letting others distract him, a nonsensical tirade that Anders did his best to block out as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t come by the Hanged Man in a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Anders’ failed to respond or pause in his work, Varric grabbed his wrist and stilled it against the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean,” Anders yanked his hand out of Varric’s gentle grip and nearly lost his balance, startled by how easily the dwarf released him. “The city is falling apart around us, the templars grow bolder by the day and Hawke still thinks he can order me around like his dog. Nothing’s going on, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric frowned, studying Anders so intently that he froze under the scrutiny, uncertain how to avoid it even if he looked away. “You haven’t been sleeping again,” he observed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time for sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Justice talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tightening his hands into fists, Anders fought silently with the spirit for a few breaths, feeling Justice’s fury at the distaste in Varric’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right about what he would do, weren’t you? He’s been punishing you for your day off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s worked up over something we learned last night,” Anders said, changing the subject before he revealed more than he should about how little control he had over Justice these days. “One of the templars, Ser Alrik, has a plan to make all the mages in Kirkwall tranquil within the next three years.” When Varric remained silent, Anders continued. “He was the one who did the ritual on Karl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you find this out?” Varric’s voice was neutral, his expression giving away nothing of his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Justice didn’t think they should tell Varric anything, but Anders trusted the dwarf and he still had the strength to disagree with the spirit in this much at least. Varric knew almost everything that went on in Kirkwall, and if he didn’t know about Alrik then either his spies had missed it or the story was more conjecture than fact. He needed to know either way. “One of the mages I helped escape from the Gallows told us the story. Alrik is out of control, but he’s serious about his ‘Tranquil Solution’ and plans to bring his proposal to the Divine herself in Val Royeaux.” It felt good to tell someone about this, someone other than Justice who had so much rage that it interrupted his thoughts every time they discussed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin, Varric sighed. “I have to admit, it sounds too crazy to be true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders stiffened but fought hard against Justice to avoid being defensive. “You’ve heard nothing of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric shrugged. “No, but that doesn’t mean much. I don’t have many sources close to the Circle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t take the risk. If there’s even a chance that it’s true, I have to do something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if it isn’t true, then it sounds suspiciously like the kind of rumor intended to trap someone like you. At least let me try to confirm it before you run straight into the Templars’ arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing Justice’s rage, Anders considered Varric’s offer with relief. Something about this situation had been nagging at him and that thread of doubt was the only thing keeping them from sneaking into the Gallows right this minute to look for evidence. He nodded. “I can give you some time to investigate, but I can’t keep looking the other way forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hardly looking the other way, Blondie,” Varric said with a chuckle. “But throwing your life away because of a rumor doesn’t help anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders had been so wrapped up in their work, so distracted by Justice’s words in his ear that he had lost perspective. After taking full advantage of his day of freedom, he’d given into Justice’s desires out of a sense of guilt. And without anyone around to point out where his point of view was skewed, he’d drifted deeper and deeper into the spirit’s growing obsession. It wasn’t good for him to be too isolated, he realized. Or for anyone else, for that matter, because if he lost control, he wouldn’t be the only one who suffered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maker’s Breath,” Varric murmured, as usual, seeing past all of Anders’ defenses. “You’re in a bad state again, aren’t you? I should have stopped by sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were angry with me.” Anders hadn't admitted this concern consciously even to himself, so he was embarrassed when he heard himself say it out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric laughed a little too loudly at that. It sounded hollow to Anders’ ears. “Why would I be angry with you?” he said quickly. “No, between Hawke’s demands, Merchants’ Guild duties and my book deadlines I’ve hardly had a moment for anything else. And I figured you were just as busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. Speaking of which, I should really be opening up the clinic for the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Varric stood in his path, but his expression was pained. “Listen, I know Hawke isn’t the most pleasant person to be around these days and he’s been a real ass to you, but he wasn’t wrong about this job. We could really use your help. And you look like you could use a change of pace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Justice’s answer was loud in his mind, an angry “no” that repeated until the word lost all meaning. But Anders was tempted to say yes, simply to prove to himself that he still had that much control over his own decisions. “What is the job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke heard from Feynriel’s mother. He’s in a coma, trapped in the Fade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Justice’s opinion swung so quickly to the positive that Anders felt a bit of imaginary whiplash. Feynriel was the very definition of a mage in need, the kind of person he and Justice were killing themselves trying to protect. He nodded. “You’re right. We should be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders felt his face flush and looked away. He had caught himself thinking this way more and more lately. Less like an individual and more like a duality. Justice’s presence was growing stronger by the day and he liked being recognized in this way. “Let me pack up some potions and grab my staff,” Anders said to distract from his reaction. “I’ll meet you outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Varric’s hand against his arm, and the dwarf’s voice was quiet and gentle as he asked, “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you, Blondie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong,” Anders said firmly, pulling free without looking back. But that wasn’t an answer to Varric’s question. Something had been wrong for a while now and he’d said nothing to anyone. Varric wouldn’t want to hear that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so.” But Varric didn’t sound like he believed him in the slightest.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Varric had never been happier to be born a dwarf. His experience of the Fade had been awful enough that he was grateful that he would never have to go there again unlike his companions who had to deal with the place in their dreams all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them seemed to be very happy even after they saved Feynriel, and he could see why. Fenris was living up to his nickname, obviously brooding over his betrayal of Hawke in the Fade. Varric wasn’t surprised that someone as judgmental of others’ failures to avoid temptation would fall victim to temptation himself, irony being what it was, but he felt nothing but sympathy for the elf given how sorely he’d been tempted by the demon’s offer himself. Hawke looked annoyed with all of them, although he shot the dirtiest looks in Anders’ direction, while Anders looked downright stricken. Justice had taken his place the moment they entered the Fade and the spirit’s self-righteous confrontation with Hawke over had made him completely useless for the rest of the mission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was obvious that Justice was gaining more and more control over Anders, and Varric didn’t know what to do about it. Keeping a close eye on him while they wrapped things up and went their separate ways, Varric followed Anders closely as he walked away from the group—or at least as closely as his short legs would allow considering Anders’ swift pace and long stride. He finally caught up to him at the entrance to Darktown and managed to catch his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie. Stop.” Panting to catch his breath, he clutched at the sleeve of Anders’ coat to keep him stationary while he collected himself. “We need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mage looked like he had a storm cloud hanging over him when he reluctantly met Varric’s eyes. “I can’t...talk about it right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s talk about something else. But I’m not letting you go home and stew over this by yourself.” If you’re ever actually alone these days. But Varric kept that last thought to himself, afraid to push Anders too hard. He suspected Justice was silent right now after they’d all defeated him in the Fade, but that didn’t mean his presence couldn’t still be felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders didn’t reply, but he let Varric lead him back to the Hanged Man, followed him silently as they walked through the half-empty common room and up the stairs to his apartment. Isabela was seated at the bar and looked up to give them both a curious look, but she didn’t join them. Varric suspected the pirate could tell at a glance that Anders was an emotional wreck at the moment and she avoided that sort of thing like the Blight. But he was surprised that Anders didn’t even give her a second glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were seated at his table with a tall mug of the good ale—Varric had splurged in the hopes that it would help Anders loosen up more quickly—Varric took a big sip and watched Anders fiddle with the handle of his mug, staring down at his own miserable expression in the liquid. The foamy head had fizzled down to practically nothing but he hadn’t taken a single drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually Varric filled the silence with stories, random tales that would distract his company and lift their spirits, but he could tell that Anders was not in the mood for frivolity. So he waited. He knew Anders would speak eventually. He wouldn’t have followed Varric at all if he wasn’t willing to talk on some level. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Anders spoke, his voice soft and heartbreakingly sad. “I’m losing control, Varric.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varic nodded. “I noticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I can be much help considering this whole thing is well beyond my area of expertise, but I’m pretty sure the wrong thing to do is to isolate yourself from everyone who cares about you and bury yourself in work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders finally took a drink then, tipping his head back and taking a long draft, a drizzle of ale escaping along his jaw and along his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed with every swallow. Varric was a little unsettled to find his mouth had gone dry at the sight. What was it about the mage that challenged everything he thought he knew about himself? While he prided himself on being welcoming of all kinds of people from every sort of walk of life, he was fairly mundane in his own preferences. He’d noticed attractive men before but never actively desired one, never even pursued many women beyond Bianca. In order to remain an impartial observer, he had kept himself withdrawn from most everything, writing from observation rather than direct experience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Anders was something else. An enigma that he kept getting caught up in trying to solve. His protective instincts were getting tangled up with the mage’s magnetic charisma and leaving him with motives he couldn’t begin to understand. Anders had been concerned that Varric was angry with him after what happened with Isabela, but his feelings hadn’t been that simple. If anything, he had been doing his best to avoid dealing with his own feelings at all. Avoidance was his favorite coping mechanism, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning the now half-empty mug to the table and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, Anders took a deep breath. “Maybe I should just start drinking all the time. It would certainly help to keep Justice docile.” He seemed to regret the comment as soon as he said it, wincing as if Justice had protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure Corff has another one coming for you in that case.” Varric pressed a hand against Anders’ shoulder as he passed on his way to the door. He waved at the bartender from the top of the stairs and got a firm nod in response, grateful to be able to get back to Anders quickly. He didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone for long right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders was standing in front of Varric’s bookcase when returned, the mug sitting empty on the table behind him. Studying the volumes on the shelf, a faint smile curved Anders’ lips as he reached down to pick one up. “I don’t know why I assumed all of these were your work. But I don’t see a single book by you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be vain, Blondie, but I’m not quite that vain. Besides, if you want to write, then you need to read. Which one did you choose?” Tilting his head to get a look at the title, he smirked when he saw that Anders had chosen the bawdy short story collection about daily life in Orzammar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke has shelves and shelves of books in his estate,” Anders said, flipping through the pages, “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything on them I wanted to read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Varric protested with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Hawke actually does have some of my books on his shelves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders smiled, but didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to borrow that if you want.” Varric went over to take the fresh drinks from the woman who had appeared in the door with their ale, shutting the door with his foot when she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders sat down cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace and opened the book on his lap. “I think I’d rather read it here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you want, Blondie,” he said, handing him one of the mugs. “Mind if I get some writing done while you read?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind.” Anders took the mug, the smile still lingering on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric grabbed his parchment and ink and settled down at the table at an angle so he could still see Anders if he looked up, flipping through the pages to see where he had left off. Staring at the blank page, he tried to get into his usual headspace but found that he couldn’t focus on the words. He wrote a few sentences, crossed them out and wrote new ones. But it was all crap. Crossing it out again, he glanced up when Anders chuckled and turned a page. Firelight danced over the mage’s tired features, softening the angles and warming the color of his skin. A few tendrils of hair had fallen from the tie at the back of his head. The hair brushed against his lips, floating away when he laughed, golden threads dancing in the dim light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Varric looked back down at his paper, he discovered that he had created an enormous ink blot that bled through to the layer below. Since the page was ruined anyway, he started writing out his thoughts, hoping that getting them out of his head would somehow help him figure out what to do with them. He began describing what he saw, painting a picture of Anders with words, and before he knew it he had filled several pages with the sort of overwrought drivel he usually despised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, he grabbed the pages and crumpled them up into a ball. He took a final swig of ale and walked over to the fireplace to toss the pages into the flames and watch them burn. That was when he noticed that Anders had fallen asleep. Leaning back against the foot of the bed, the book still splayed open over his lap, Anders was sleeping peacefully with a faint smile still curving his lips. Varric’s heart ached to look at him and he stared for longer than he probably should have considering how much his heart was aching. Finally stirring from his stupor, he pulled a blanket off the bed and gently covered Anders as best as he could without waking him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t make much progress on his book the rest of the night, his thoughts still filled with thoughts of the mage sleeping on the other side of the room.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anders woke up chilled and stiff, his neck twisted at an awkward angle against a soft surface. Blinking into the gloom, he saw a fire burned down to embers and a worn but well-loved rug beneath him, but it took him an embarrassingly long time to recognize that he was in Varric’s room. He was covered in a blanket, but it was light and couldn’t keep the cold at bay now that the fire had burned down. Shifting to restore circulation to his legs, he felt something heavy slip off his lap and pushed the blanket aside to see the book he had been reading before he fell asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around the room in search of its owner and finally found Varric asleep on a chair at the table, snoring softly on a stack of papers. Smiling at the sight, Anders wondered how often Varric had fallen asleep working like that. He tossed the blanket on the bed and stood up, stretching the kinks out with a grimace. Justice was strangely silent in his mind, but he wasn’t about to go prodding around to wake him. The silence was too much of a relief. He felt as if he had been hearing the spirit yell in his mind for days on end and his head felt raw and sore from the abuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still shivering, he placed a few fresh logs on the fire and prodded it back to life before walking over to the table to join Varric. The dwarf was going to wake up with a worse crick in his neck than the one Anders had based on the way he was sleeping. Trying to figure out the kindest way to wake Varric, he noticed the writing on the table beside him. He picked up the top sheet, feeling a little guilty about the fact that he’d never read any of Varric’s work before. According to Hawke, it wasn’t exactly fine literature, but Anders liked Varric’s sense of humor and his stories were always entertaining, so surely he would enjoy his writing as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile fell from his lips as he began to read and realized that it wasn’t a story at all. It was an inner monologue, stream of consciousness thoughts about someone that Varric couldn’t get out of his head, someone he desired but felt that he couldn’t or shouldn’t have. Curiosity piqued, Anders devoured the writing but never found the subject of Varric’s concern. Then he noticed the crumpled papers on the floor. Bending down, he opened one and then another, scanning the scribbled words for a name, but he didn’t need one by the time he’d read through a few. The identity was all too obvious by the lovingly detailed description.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrinkled papers still clutched in his hands, Anders looked up at Varric and tried to process his own feelings. Suddenly Varric’s reaction to his encounter with Isabela took on an entirely new context and Anders felt a wave of regret wash over him. The pirate had flirted with him since they met up again in Kirkwall, and as much as Justice protested against her interest, Anders had been flattered. The fact that he had avoided temptation so long was a minor miracle, but he had always known that sex with Isabela would be simple with no strings attached. He couldn’t afford anything more, not with a spirit sharing his body who was slowly taking possession entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up, he watched Varric sleep, studying the dwarf’s rugged features and realizing that he rather enjoyed all the blunt angles and stubble. He’d always appreciated Varric’s looks in a platonic sort of way, had even spent some time considering the dwarf’s bulk in less platonic ways much to Justice’s chagrin, but he’d never thought such fantasies would ever be anything more than that. There weren’t many people that Anders hadn’t considered at some point, even Fenris, infuriating as he was, but he’d always felt a little guilty thinking about Varric as anything other than a friend. He’d always felt like Varric was better than the rest of them, kinder, more generous, more mature. He had his life together. He didn’t deserve to be dragged down by someone like Anders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing slowly and placing the crumpled papers on top of the others, he realized he couldn’t accept the affection Varric had poured out on these pages. He turned to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders froze, cringing as he heard Varric stirring sleepily behind him. “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home,” the word stuck in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late. You should stay.” Paper rustled and Varric cursed. He must have noticed the discarded sheets spread open on top of the pile. “Blondie...” he said with a hint of desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dwarf was suddenly beside him and Anders realized he hadn’t moved far even though he had intended to leave. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I don’t know why I even wrote it all in the first place…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting to meet Varric’s eyes, Anders was surprised to find that they were open and honest, vulnerable but undaunted by the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we just pretend that I was writing someone else’s thoughts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric bit his lower lip and shook his head. “What I want is to kiss all that sadness off your face. I want to hold you until you stop thinking you have to run away from everything.” He closed his eyes. “But what I want isn’t the most important thing right now. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question caught Anders off guard even more than hearing Varric say such things about him. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be held, to be kissed. He wanted to belong somewhere for once instead of having to hide. But he had forfeited his right to get what he wanted the day he joined with Justice. “I’ll end up hurting you.” Meeting Varric’s eyes, he whispered, “And I don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get hurt either way at this point.” Varric reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “And give me a little credit. I’m not that fragile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then kiss me,” Anders breathed, closing his eyes. His willpower had never been terribly strong to begin with, and without Justice badgering him about his decisions he didn’t have it in him to put up much of a fight. Not when he wanted the comfort Varric was offering so badly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing a hand against Anders’ chest, Varric walked him gently backward until he felt the table behind him. Sitting down on the edge, Anders leveled their height enough to give Varric easier access to his lips. But Varric was taking his time. He brushed a hand over Anders’ jaw first, mapping his face with calloused fingers before settling his hand at the nape of his neck, gently adjusting the tilt of his head. Eyes still closed, Anders felt Varric’s breath on his lips first, then the brush of his nose against his cheek. Varric hovered there for long enough that Anders wanted to squirm at the intimacy of the moment, but when Varric finally leaned forward to close that tiniest of gaps, Anders moaned at the simple pressure of his lips. The kiss was sweet and slow, worshipful if Anders had to apply a word to it, nothing like the frenzied tongue twisters he and Isabela had exchanged, but the barely there touches were somehow more intense than anything he had ever experienced, every sensation heightened by the measured pace of the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders could feel Justice trying to wake up, likely roused by the way Anders’ heart was ready to pound out of his chest, but he pushed him back down, reaching out for Varric to ground himself and stay present in the moment. His hands landed on bare skin, rough with hair but warm, and he slid them inside Varric’s gaping tunic, pulling him closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting the angle of the kiss, Varric stepped between Anders’ legs and arched him back, their bodies pressing flush against each other as he traced the seam of Anders’ lips with his tongue. Anders immediately parted his lips but let Varric set the pace. And the pace was agonizingly, deliciously slow. Anders was trembling by the time they finally parted again, lightheaded and overwhelmed by the dwarf’s warmth as Varric wrapped strong arms around him and held him close. Karl had been gentle like this, but he hadn’t had Varric’s strength, his overwhelming presence. Anders had never felt as safe as he did in Varric’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Varric asked. He must have felt Anders trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burying his face in the curve of the dwarf’s neck, Anders drank in the scent of ink and leather and tried to hold on to this feeling as long as he possibly could. “You’re good at kissing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric chuckled as if he didn’t quite believe him and Anders could feel the warm sound as much as he heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing Varric’s collarbone, he reached down for the sash tied around the dwarf’s waist and tugged it loose, allowing his tunic to fall open. Varric walked around like a poorly wrapped present most of the time with his chest half-exposed and Anders had long been curious to find out what was still hidden beneath that wrapping. Pushing the tunic off his shoulders and dragging fingers over unexpectedly muscled arms, Anders smiled before leaning forward to survey Varric’s chest with open-mouthed kisses, trying to apply as much attention to the exploration as Varric had given to their kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Varric had other ideas. Combing fingers through Anders’ hair, he tightened his grip on his neck to pull his face back up to look at him. “I’m up here, Blondie,” he said with a teasing laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t like being objectified?” Anders replied with a grin, hands settling comfortably on Varric’s solid hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flattering as it is, it’s a bit one-sided for my tastes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you even real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep that up, and my ego is going to get really out of control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders shrugged. “I like confidence in a man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming under his breath, Varric reached out for the fastenings of Anders’ coat. “In that case, I think it’s past time I balanced the scales.” He made quick work of the coat, tossing it over the nearest chair and tugging at the thin undershirt to lift it. His hands were warm as they slipped beneath the fabric and pulled it over his head, but his scrutiny when Anders was exposed was so intense that it made Anders shiver more than the cool air on his bare skin. “You’re beautiful, Blondie,” he breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders wasn’t sure how much of this worship he could take without melting into a puddle at Varric’s feet. He certainly didn’t deserve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric’s eyes narrowed when he saw the look on Anders’ face. Cupping his cheek with one broad hand, he sighed. “You don’t like it when I say things like that, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t the compliment as much as the way he’d said it. Desire he could accept easily, but that wasn’t the only thing he heard in Varric’s voice, in fact it wasn’t even the prevailing emotion. This was all becoming much too deep much too quickly, and Anders was starting to feel the urge to run away. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, panic fluttering in his throat as he fought the desire to escape. Justice stirred at the sensations, interpreting the reaction as a true fight or flight response and not simply an unhealthy reaction to being treated like someone worthy of love. He knew it was unfair to Varric, but his emotions were winning this one no matter what his head had to say about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders slipped away before Varric could stop him, squeezing out from between him and the table and grabbing his shirt as if it could protect him from Varric’s gaze. Pulling it over his head, he reached for his coat and pulled it on with relief. “I can’t do this,” he whispered as he buttoned up the coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” Varric’s voice was flat now, not betraying anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes. “This. I can sleep with you, but I can’t…” He didn’t even know what to call it, how to define the way Varric’s affection burned him like acid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie…” The overwhelming emotion in Varric’s voice wasn’t betrayal or pain but pity, and that was the last thing Anders wanted him to feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric didn’t try to stop him, but Anders could feel how much he wanted to without even looking at him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, this is the point at which I finally realized what this story is about for me. Not just the dynamics between these characters, but an exploration of mental health issues. Pretty much all the characters in Dragon Age 2 could use some therapy—even Varric after everything that happened with his brother. But I didn't realize until I got here that Anders has some pretty unhealthy thoughts about his own worth. I don't know why I expected the romance to play out the way it did in my other story, The Wrong Man, but the focus of that story is all about rehabilitating Anders and the romance doesn't really get started until he's reached the healthiest place he'd ever been. This Anders is still in the midst of his most messed up point and struggling hard. Of course, Hawke is also dealing with grief and depression (which we'll see more of in the next chapter). </p><p>This last year has been hard for a lot of people because of the pandemic and everything else and I guess I had some troubling stuff to explore and work through in this story. Hope it's helpful for some of you as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy new year everyone! Sorry for staring it out with such a downer chapter...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hawke woke up all alone in the big four-poster bed in his lavish High Town estate feeling utterly empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is how he started his day lately, blinking into the late morning light that drifted lazily through the window, watching dust motes chase each other joyfully through the air and hating them for not understanding that nothing mattered and every day was bound to be just another exercise in frustration. He found himself longing for Gamlen’s dirty little hovel in Lowtown and the cramped quarters he’d shared with Bethany and his mother and wondered at the fact that he would have chosen that place over their home in Ferelden. But that life seemed so far away, like a dream. Back before the Blight, before they’d lost first father and then Carver, before he’d had to spend a year working off their debt to the criminals who helped them get into Kirkwall in the first place. Kirkwall was a horrible place, but it was the only home he could claim. Even if it had taken almost everything from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually at this point he would seek out Isabela for a quick romp and the brief escape it provided from his misery. Or, if he was in a healthier state of mind, he’d track down Varric and spend the day basking in the dwarf’s friendly glow. In spite of everything, Varric always made him feel like a big damn hero rather than the big damn fuck up he knew he really was. If he were really such a hero, then he wouldn’t have been so busy feeling important that he failed to notice that his mother had fallen in with someone dangerous. He would have realized that she was in danger, or maybe even just paid enough attention to her in the first place that she wouldn’t have been so desperate to find affection somewhere else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling in frustration, he flung the covers to the side and rolled out of bed, anger prickling beneath his skin like a rash that refused to heal, and the itch made him want to find a target, someone who could take a lashing and make him forget for even a moment how powerless he really was. Most of the time he would pick a fight with someone who deserved it, putting his anger to good use in a job that would benefit the city, but he felt petty today and too full of self-loathing to act noble. He wanted to hurt someone and he wanted to see them feel it. It wasn’t a surprise that the healer was the first one to come to mind. He owed the mage a word anyway after what had happened in the Fade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke was not so far gone as to use his sources of support so cruelly, and Anders was a thorn in his side these days more than he was a friend. His constant railing against the circles was a reminder that Hawke’s own sister was locked up in one and there was nothing he could do about it. She acted happy enough when he went to visit her, but if the Circle really was the hellish place Anders described then she was lying to him, pretending to be happy so he wouldn’t worry. He didn’t believe that was true–or refused to believe it–so by default that meant Anders was the one who was wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dressing quickly, he avoided Bodahn and Sandal and escaped into the street, breathing down huge gulps of fresh air as if he hadn’t been outside in days. Every moment he spent in that house was a reminder of the one who no longer lived in it. After a while all the luxury felt suffocating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way down to the lower city without incident, most people giving him a wide berth as soon as they saw the murderous look in his eyes. Anders was in his clinic as always, and for once the place wasn’t overrun with patients. In fact, there was only one and she left as soon as Anders finished treating her, pressing some coin into his hands that he tried to refuse. But she fled before he could give it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she was gone, Hawke stepped in front of the door and pushed it shut, hoping that would be enough to deter any interruptions. “We need to talk, Anders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Anders didn’t protest or try to avoid the conversation. He simply sighed and leaned back against the table he used for preparing potions, tossing the small coin purse onto the surface and crossing his arms over his chest. Hawke didn’t think he’d ever seen the mage looking so resigned, and to his great irritation, seeing Anders already look so beaten down took some of the fun out of the idea of beating him up himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we should talk,” Anders agreed. “You killed me in the Fade when we helped Feynriel, after all. How did that deal with the demon work out for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it was only a ruse. I never intended to go through with the demon’s plan. And you’re the one who turned on me first. Or should I say that Justice was. I’m surprised you even remember anything that happened after the way that spirit started running the show as soon as we ended up in the Fade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was aware,” Anders said, but Hawke caught his wince before he looked away. “Enough to wonder if you even considered whether or not I could survive dying in the Fade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was rather hoping that Justice might not. He’s the reason I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders met his gaze again, but the look in his eyes was about as empty as the one Hawke saw in his own reflection every morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just how much control does Justice have over you these days?” Hawke asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to answer that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about with the truth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders looked down, his gaze abstracting. “What is the truth? Where does he end and I begin? I can’t tell anymore. Does that answer your question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a flare of anger at the sarcasm in Anders’ voice, Hawke snapped, “It doesn’t make me feel any better about it, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know it was my job to make you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing Anders by the front of his coat, Hawke watched his pupils dilate with fear and reveled in the reaction a moment before shoving him hard enough that the heavy table behind him scraped a bit over the floor. “That’s exactly your job. And you keep failing at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squeezing his eyes shut, Anders shook his head. “Are you trying to provoke him?” he asked through gritted teeth. “To draw him out? If that’s your goal, you’re succeeding.” A flash of blue light flickered over Anders’ skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke’s anger burned hotter with anticipation, and he forced Anders down against the table, pinning him there with his weight. “Make me stop,” he hissed. “Show me how little control you have left so I can finally call you an abomination and be done with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders' eyes were bright blue when they opened again, his voice deep and resonant when he shouted back. “You will not harm him. I will destroy you first.” Justice moved so swiftly and with such strength that Hawke didn’t realize he had been thrown off his feet until he landed hard against the wall. Sliding down it and landing in a crouch, he looked up to see Anders clutching at his head, shaking all over as he pleaded under his breath. “No, no, no! Stop. We can’t do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing with a hand against the wall to steady himself, Hawke watched the spectacle with a sinking realization, his anger quickly turning into something darker, something resolute. As much as Anders fought against the spirit, it was obvious that he was fighting a losing battle, especially when he was directly challenged. Hawke had put this decision off long enough. It was time to take care of Anders before he lost control completely. This was the right thing to do. It would be better for everyone in the end, even Anders. The last thing the healer wanted to do was cause harm, and that’s exactly what would happen if Hawke didn’t stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing a knife from his belt, he stalked across the room and grabbed Anders by the hair, pulling his head up and pressing the blade against his throat. Anders’ eyes were brown again and afraid, his hands clutching at Hawke’s arm to stop him. Blue lightning chased over his skin, barely contained, but Anders’ voice was quiet and steady when he spoke, “Don’t. He’ll kill you. If you do this, I won’t be able to stop him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s exactly why I have to do it. Can’t you see, Anders? There isn’t enough left of you to save.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawke?! What the fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Isabela’s voice was like a bucket of ice water spilled over his head. Hawke felt as if he were waking from a dream as he looked down at Anders’ pale face, the mage’s lips trembling, eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the cut that would end his life, even now fighting against the spirit inside him with everything he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela twisted Hawke’s wrist and forced him to drop the knife, yanking him several steps away from Anders at the same time. “What has gotten into you?” Isabela demanded, spitting in his face like an angry cat while keeping his arm twisted immobile behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders sagged against the table, panting for air as if he’d been running for his life. Hawke supposed he had been in a way. Varric hovered nearby, his expression full of conflict as he looked at the mage as if he wanted to gather him up into his arms but was afraid to touch him. Hawke thought that was a wise decision. Anders was likely to lash out at anyone who came near him at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s losing control,” Hawke said breathlessly, gesturing at Anders. “Are we all supposed to just stand by and watch while Justice takes over completely?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only one I see who’s lost control here is you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled by the accusation, Hawke shifted to look at Isabela again, but he was too dumbfounded to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie?” Varric had approached Anders but was still keeping his distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders didn’t react, rubbing at the scratch on his neck where Hawke’s knife had started to break the skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear,” Isabela said, her grip tightening painfully on Hawke’s arm, “if Varric didn’t keep eyes on this place we wouldn’t have even known you were here before you’d killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders looked up at that, a look of betrayal in his eyes as he glanced at Varric. That reaction didn’t make a lot of sense to Hawke, but it was really the least of his concerns. He was more worried that Isabela was going to dislocate his shoulder if she wasn’t careful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely you heard what he said,” Hawke protested. “Justice threatened to kill me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke had never seen Isabela this furious. “It isn’t the dog’s fault when it bites its owner after being kicked. It’s self defense.” Glancing over her shoulder at Varric, she said, “Take care of him. I’ll take care of this one.” And with that, she started marching Hawke toward the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to put up a fight, but he found that the fight had gone out of him. None of his friends seemed to see the threat clearly, but why was he surprised? He was alone and had been for a while.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Varric wasn’t sure what to do with himself once they were alone. He felt restless, at war with his own instincts, wanting so badly to reassure Anders but not even sure if the mage would accept comfort from him at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been watching the clinic,” Anders said softly, his voice carefully neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darktown is dangerous,” Varric replied. “And I’ve been worried since Hawke threatened you before. I’m not using my spies to keep tabs on you, if that’s what you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to think.” Varric’s chest ached to see the despair in those honey brown eyes. “He’s right, you know. I don’t know how much longer I have before Justice takes over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the inevitable conclusion here,” Varric insisted. “It’s only one possibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only saying that because…” Anders closed his eyes, pressing his lips together. “This is why I left the other night. You’ve lost your objectivity where I’m concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric laughed, a bitter sound that made Anders flinch. “I lost my objectivity a long time ago, Blondie, and that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you left. Be honest with yourself about that, at least, even if you can’t be with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d worked it out  that night, even before the door had shut behind Anders, recognizing the signs of someone who didn’t think they deserved love. The realization explained quite a bit, actually. Why Anders ran away from everything and everyone, why he let Justice take advantage of him and why he hadn’t batted an eye at Isabela bringing Hawke back to her room immediately after they’d had their fun. Varric understood how people worked, what made them tick, even if he couldn’t always relate to the way they lived their lives. He would never be capable of purely casual liaisons. For someone like Isabela that kind of behavior was her way of exercising her own independence. For Anders it was just one more way to punish himself. A taste of something that he couldn’t keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been three days since then. Varric hated leaving things unresolved, but knew he couldn’t be the one to fix this. So he’d kept busy and kept his distance. He was incredibly good at avoiding his own problems, so good, in fact, that it was actually a problem how good he was at it. And like clockwork, a letter from Bianca had arrived, all good cheer and excitement about her latest project. Everything in the letter had been above board until the end, a post script with a time and place and no context. Maybe she was worried that Bogdan would somehow intercept her correspondence, but if that was the concern then why include the note so obviously? No, she had done it this way because that was all these little meetups meant to her. They were isolated incidents, scenic moments in a life of doing what was expected and toeing the line. And yet Varric always jumped at the chance to see her without complaint. That showed how much he thought he was worth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he realized where his feelings for Anders were going, he had resolved not to meet up with her again. Even if nothing came of it, the fact that he was even capable of feeling this way about someone else was proof that he needed to end things with her. The worst part was that she would probably be pleased to hear that he’d started moving on. He had no doubt that she would encourage his interest in someone new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders was watching him silently when he finally returned his attention to him. “Why do you think I left?” he asked so softly that Varric had to strain to hear the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Telling him the truth wasn’t likely to get them anywhere, so Varric shook his head and remained silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was afraid,” Anders admitted, looking down at his hands where they were clasped tightly on his lap. Choking on the last word, he took a deep breath and tried again, “I was afraid that you would expect something of me that I’m not capable of giving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Myself.” Swallowing hard, Anders continued, “As Hawke said, there isn’t much left of me at this point. You deserve so much more than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Anders was no better than Bianca. Maybe that’s what had attracted Varric to him in the first place. But Varric was screwed either way because it was too late for him to pretend his feelings away. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. Why don’t you let me decide?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “What about you? What do you think you deserve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders winced and looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I know everyone thinks I’m an open book, that I’m easy and accommodating and that I always have the best of intentions. But I’m no saint, and you actually know very little about me. That’s not by accident. It’s because I prefer it that way. I tell stories for a living, Blondie. You should expect me to be pretty good at writing my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he had Anders’ attention, a wary look in his eyes as he regarded Varric and waited for him to finish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying this to upset you. I just need you to understand that I’m not some fool with a crush. I know what I’m about. So if you want to go on feeling sorry for yourself and fighting that spirit, the templars and the world all on your own, then I won’t stop you. But if you are willing to let someone else care about you, to let yourself be loved, I’m right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders’ expression softened and a slow, sad smile curved his lips. “I really should read your books. No one’s ever propositioned me with such eloquence before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric chuckled, taking the light-hearted comment as a good sign. But he wasn’t ready to let Anders shrug this whole thing off like it didn’t matter. “That’s because it’s more than a casual proposition. Isn’t that the problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to do anything more,” Anders admitted, looking every bit as out of his element as he sounded. “The closest I ever came to a real relationship was with Karl, but we were still trapped in the Circle at the time, constantly looking over our shoulders and expecting the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one knows how to do it, Blondie. You just try, and then you make it up as you go along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders nodded, eyes filled with determination. “Then I want to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief washed over Varric and he took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in years. “Glad to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Expression sobering, Anders asked, “What are we going to do about Hawke? He hasn’t been himself for months. Ever since his mother died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric was surprised to hear the compassion in Anders’ voice after what Hawke had done. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs to talk to someone. To be able to work through all of his pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m more worried about you right now.” Varric walked over to him and brushed a fingertip just above the cut on his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should assure yourself of how alive I am, then,” Anders said with a playfully arched brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stunned by how quickly Anders could shift into this gear, Varric shook his head in exasperation. “And how do you suggest I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders dragged a finger down Varric’s chest. “Very thoroughly.” Leaning closer, he added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I actually am propositioning you, by the way. In case you didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Varric nodded. “I don’t miss much, Blondie.” Catching Anders’ hand in his, he pressed a kiss against his knuckles. “But it will have to wait. I don’t think I should leave Rivaini to deal with Hawke on her own, and if you’re feeling good enough to come on to me then I think you’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders nodded. “I would offer to help, but it’s pretty obvious that would be a bad idea.” Then his eyes widened. “But I might have something that could be useful.” Standing up and walking over to the shelf Hawke had pushed him back against only a few weeks before, he scanned over the bottles in search of something. Offering Varric a vial of golden liquid, he said, “Put a few drops of this in his drink and it will help him relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Normally I wouldn’t be in favor of drugging a friend, but when that friend has also tried to kill one of your other friends, it doesn’t sound like the worst idea.” Pocketing the vial, Varric turned to go, but paused and turned back to face him. “Come by the Hanged Man tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders’ expression crumpled. “I...can’t. I actually have other plans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More mages to free?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes narrowing, Varric gave him a worried look. “You aren’t following up on that lead you mentioned before, are you? I haven’t found any evidence either way, but it still sounds like a trap to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The discomfort on Anders’ face all but confirmed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming with you,” Varric said firmly. “When and where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders sighed and shook his head. “No. I can put it off. It’s waited this long. It can wait another day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Varric wasn’t sure he believed him didn’t make for a great start to their relationship, but he decided to let it go. Better to trust until proven wrong. “Then I'll see you later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Anders leaned down to press a kiss against Varric’s forehead. “Good luck with Hawke.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was interesting to write because in a way I'm exploring something very similar to the thing Varric said they should have done in my Inquisitor Anders story, the Wrong Man, and proving it wasn't the right solution either. I don't think Varric was suggesting a preemptive strike on Justice exactly, but I think he was being a bit naive to think that Anders and Justice could have been stopped simply by paying a little more attention to them either.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Isabela was not good with emotions. Anyone who knew her knew this. But she was doing her best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had brought Hawke back to his estate, but this seemed to have been the wrong choice since he had not spoken to her since they arrived or responded to any of her attempts to get him up to the bedroom where she might have felt more in her element. He was sitting in the living room now, staring into the fire with a blank expression and if he wasn’t still blinking or occasionally sighing she might have thought he was in a fugue state. Bodahn had offered food and Sandal had offered enchantments, but she shooed them both away and watched Hawke with a finger pressed to her lips in concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Varric on this one. Honestly, she probably needed Anders more since he was a healer and Hawke appeared to be in need of some sort of healing, but she had brought Hawke here to get him away from the mage so he was off the table. Maybe that elf woman from the mountain? Keeper Marethari? She seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. Maybe she would know how to help him. But she didn’t seem to be on the best of terms with Merrill at the moment, and Isabela had no other connection to the woman. She supposed someone at the Chantry might be able to help, but that seemed like a bad idea for a lot of reasons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to stick around, you know,” Hawke said suddenly, startling her so badly that she put a hand on the nearest bookshelf to steady herself. That was embarrassing. She didn’t pride herself on her reflexes for nothing, after all. But Hawke had completely thrown her off her game. “I’m not crazy.” He looked up at her, and the glazed look in his eyes didn’t do much to reassure her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you thought you were doing something good,” she admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anders is a threat. Everyone knows it, but we all just keep looking the other way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela laughed and immediately regretted it when she saw the anger flaring to life again in his eyes. “Sure, Anders is a threat,” she explained. “So are you, darling. And me. And Varric, Aveline, Fenris and Merrill. How many people have we collectively killed at this point?” She leaned forward and jabbed a finger in his direction to make a point. “And how many do you think Anders has saved with his skill at healing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scowling, Hawke shook his head. “He’s going to lose control at some point and none of that is going to matter anymore. Who will be responsible then, do you think? Justice? Anders? Or us after we saw it coming and chose not to do anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of the above,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “But it hasn’t happened yet and we don’t know if it ever will. Would you prefer to be responsible for killing a friend over a possibility or to be ready to act when there’s actually a reason to kill him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke’s expression crumpled and he seemed to sink into the armchair as if her argument had deflated him. “I can’t make the same mistake again. I have to stop him before he does something terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Make the same mistake again. Suddenly the reason for Hawke’s preemptive strike hit her like an arrow to the forehead. The circumstances were different, but the threat and the consequences were all too similar. Shaking herself slightly, she covered her mouth to prevent herself from speaking too rashly. This was a sensitive topic. Approaching him cautiously, she crouched down beside the chair so she could look in his downcast eyes. “What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault, Garrett. You know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched and it was obvious that he didn’t agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one could have seen that coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have,” he said in a broken voice. “I should have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela was relieved when she heard the front door open and Bodahn’s friendly voice greeting Varric, but she didn’t react for fear of upsetting the fragile peace she had established with Hawke. Putting her hand on top of his knee, she said softly, “No, Hawke. There was nothing you could do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a heart-wrenching sound that was so distraught that she didn’t even have a name for it, Hawke buried his face in his hands with a sob. Isabela didn’t know what to do with that, but she kept her hand on his knee and patted it lightly, glancing up when she heard Varric enter the room. The dwarf’s expression was full of so much compassion that just looking at him made her feel better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips pursed, Varric walked over to the sideboard and poured out a portion of whiskey before pulling a little bottle out of his coat and tapping a few drops of golden liquid into the tumbler. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word as he brought the drink over to Hawke and sat down on the chair next to him, waiting for him to recover enough to notice his presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela moved her hand from Hawke’s knee to his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over his back as he continued to cry in gasping sobs, and pretty soon he was bent completely double, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think she’d seen him cry at all since his mother died. She had been there when it happened and she’d thought he’d simply been in shock, but that was when his anger had started, the uncontrollable rage that kept rearing its ugly head at every tiny provocation. He had transferred all his grief into anger and he’d been stuck there with it for months. Thinking of all the time she’d spent with him, all the ways she had tried to channel his emotions into something more entertaining, she wondered if she hadn’t simply been allowing him to delay the inevitable. Sex and drink had enabled him to keep avoiding the crushing weight of all the things he had lost, and she’d been happy to provide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hawke finally calmed, Isabela struggled to figure out what to do about it. He seemed embarrassed by his emotional outburst in a way that he’d never seemed embarrassed by his anger, and he lingered with his face on her shoulder as if looking for a way out of this moment. Luckily, Varric knew exactly what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without saying anything, Varric placed the tumbler on the low table beside the chair within view of Hawke if he was looking. Then he looked at Isabela and stood up. “You want something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke pulled away from her and sat back in the chair, hiding his face as he reached for the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m picky, Varric,” Isabela said, standing up stiffly and trying to stretch out the cramp in her back from holding Hawke in such an awkward position for so long. “I’d better take a look to make sure you get the right one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood by the sideboard silently for a moment, exchanging worried glances and watching the back of Hawke’s chair. “Got anything special for me, Varric?” she asked with an arched brow, nodding at the pocket of his coat where he had hidden the bottle he’d used to dose Hawke’s drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and mouthed, “From Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced back at Hawke and hoped that whatever it was helped. “That one,” she said, pointing to a bottle at random. “Mix it up right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Varric actually did mix her a cocktail, taking ingredients from the ample supplies Bodahn kept stocked on the tray. It looked as pretty as it tasted good and she smiled at him after her first sip. “Hm. Not bad.” Varric was full of surprises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worried about Hawke, she wandered back to the fireplace and was surprised to find him sitting drowsily back in the chair, the drink nearly finished and the glass lolling from his hand. “Isabela,” he said softly without meeting her eyes. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what, sweet thing?” she asked, smirking as she sat down on the ottoman and knocked knees with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?” Varric settled into the chair beside them with another fancy drink in his hand, this one a beautiful shade of orange. Like a sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke shrugged. “I feel exhausted. Like I’ve been walking around with a weight hanging around my neck and I only just now noticed it was there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Varric took a sip of his drink. “Good you finally put it down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke swallowed and seemed to consider his next statement a long time before voicing it. “Did I hurt him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric studied his expression carefully before responding. “No lasting harm, I think. And you should know… I’ve noticed what’s going on with Justice too. I’m keeping my eye on them both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was interesting. Was that why he’d been getting so close and personal with Anders? Isabela knew it was dangerous to underestimate Varric, but that was some mastermind shit if it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that’s enough.” Hawke nodded and his eyes drifted shut a moment before he opened them again. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to go lie down. This has been...a rough day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela stood up with him and put a hand on his arm, worried he would shrug her off, but he looked grateful for her touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at Varric, Hawke thanked him for the drink and then started heading for the stairs, pulling Isabela along with him. Varric gave her a nod and then returned to his drink and she was reassured that he seemed to be willing to stick around for a while in case things went sour again. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't know about you, but I needed something to do aside from watching the news. So I'm going to give you two chapters because I can't just leave you hanging on a day like today. Another chapter coming soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anders wondered if this was what insanity felt like. He’d been struggling to keep Justice under control for days, pleading with him to wait until Varric could verify the rumor about Alrik, but the spirit was never satisfied with this decision and his questions only intensified after Anders walked out on the dwarf in the middle of the night. Justice didn’t think they could even trust Varric after that and was convinced it was time for them to take matters into their own hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was still struggling to manage Justice’s expectations, Anders had learned from a member of the resistance that Alrik would be outside the Gallows tonight and that this might be his only chance to find proof of his plans and expose them. He had nearly been convinced to actually go through with it before Hawke walked through the door and tried to kill them both. Justice had been apoplectic ever since, raging at Hawke, the templars and even at Varric for trying to stop them from doing their necessary work. And Anders couldn’t get a word or a thought in edgewise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to deal with anyone else as long as he was feeling so unstable, Anders closed up the clinic for the rest of the day and retreated to a back corner of the room, fighting against Justice with every shred of willpower he had left. He had paced the floor for several hours after Varric left, the barrage of angry thoughts like claws against the inside of his skin and he’d walked in circles just to feel as if he had control over something. Justice when threatened was almost intolerable. But he had no choice but to tolerate him. He had to keep fighting or everything Hawke had warned about him would come true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t go,” he muttered to Justice. “Varric’s right. It’s probably a trap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Justice’s response was not words as much as thought and emotion, but his answer was clear enough. “Hawke will do everything he can to stop us. We have to move before he has the chance. Ser Alrik must be stopped at any cost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at any cost,” Anders reminded him. This was a point he’d been trying to drive home with Justice for a while now. “Sometimes the cost is too high.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the argument was circular and no matter how many times he lectured Justice they kept coming back to the same points over and over again. Justice was never satisfied. And Anders wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure. He’d never felt Justice’s desperation this keenly before. Usually Justice simply took over before he could feel it, but he was learning to prevent that except for in the most extreme circumstances like when Hawke had threatened them. But sitting with that desperation, feeling it crawling all over his skin was almost more than he could stand. With every passing moment he was more and more tempted to give in, to sneak into the Gallows and give Justice what he wanted just for the relief of ending the stalemate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked open and he flinched, lifting his head from where he had been resting it on his knees. The room was pitch black. He must have lost track of time because the scant slivers of sunlight that filtered down from the upper city were long gone now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie?” He could see the dwarf silhouetted in the open doorway, shoving his lockpicks back into the pocket of his coat. Varric looked tired, weary lines creasing his face as he looked around the dark room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Anders said, having to clear his voice to even speak. His legs had gone numb after hours of being drawn up to his chest so tightly, and he was feeling too weak from fighting Justice to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric struck a match and used the flame to find a candle. He lit a few of them and then picked one up to carry it over to Anders. Crouching down beside him, Varric brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. “I thought maybe you had gone to the Gallows without me after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning into his touch, Anders closed his eyes. “I almost did. I almost let him take me there.” He reached up and clutched at Varric’s wrist to keep his hand in place. “Varric,” he whispered, looking up at him and pleading with his eyes even though he had no idea what he was asking Varric to give him. All he knew was that he needed something, some way to fight back against Justice before it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Varric didn’t seem to need an explanation. He set the candle down far enough away to be out of reach and then turned his attention back to Anders, his expression focused in a way that made Anders feel more grounded as well. Then he leaned forward and kissed him, and this kiss was nothing like their first. This one was full of hunger and urgency, both demanding and all-consuming. For the first time all day, Anders lost track of Justice’s voice, overwhelmed by Varric’s presence instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow they managed to find their way onto one of the cots, stripping each other of bits of clothing without breaking contact. This wasn’t how Anders had wanted their first time to go, but he needed this too badly to slow Varric down. He wanted to ask if Varric had ever been with a man before but held his tongue. As Varric had told him all too clearly, Anders actually knew very little about him. Regardless, Varric made up for any lack of experience with determination, and it didn’t hurt that they had the same parts since it meant Varric knew how to make Anders feel good without needing to know all the ins and outs of the situation. He took the simplest approach, which felt appropriate given the urgency of their coupling, and it more than served the purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Anders found release he felt bonelessly tired and on the verge of collapse. Curled up against Varric’s side, he rested his forehead against the dwarf’s shoulder and sighed as Varric brushed fingertips over his arm. The light touch made him shiver. Noticing this, Varric reached over his back to pull a blanket off the nearest cot and drag it on top of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” Varric asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders hummed softly and burrowed more deeply into his chest, realizing for the first time that Justice had fallen silent as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry that was so rushed,” Varric said, sounding more self-conscious than Anders had ever heard him. “Next time we’ll do it right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Anders nodded. “Next time. I like the sound of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Justice is quiet for the first time in days. If I knew I could shut him up with sex I would have slept with half the city by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric grunted distastefully at that. “Not exactly the thing you want to hear from a new partner, Blondie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I was only trying to make a point.” Shifting so that he could see Varric’s eyes, he said playfully, “I’m not sure you realize what you’re signing up for here. It could require a lot of stamina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding his arm around Anders’ back and pressing a kiss against his forehead, he said, “Good thing I have plenty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I am curious…” Anders studied Varric’s face in the dim candlelight, knowing this question might be a sensitive one. “Am I your first…I mean, I assume Bianca is named after a real woman. But have you ever been with a man before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First man, first human,” Varric confirmed, his expression open and honest. A smile tugged at his lips as he added, “First you. That’s the important bit, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “So you’re an Andersexual?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Varric laugh. “I guess I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That revelation was actually a bit overwhelming when Anders stopped to think about it. He supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point, but it made this whole thing feel more monumental, like he was a singular exception for Varric, the one case that broke all his rules.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me? Am I your first dwarf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders thought about that for a moment, then realized it was true. “You are.” He also realized that he’d been in such a desperate state that he hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to the details. Now he wanted to lift the blanket and take a closer look, but he was afraid that would start something that he was too exhausted to finish. “No complaints so far,” he murmured instead, eyes drifting shut. “But I’m looking forward to doing more research.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stroking a hand lightly over Anders’ side, Varric sighed. “I’m just glad I got here when I did. You looked like you were fighting a losing battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was.” Anders snaked a hand around Varric’s waist to reassure himself of the dwarf’s presence as he remembered the horrible hours he’d spent at war with Justice. “Hawke inadvertently triggered the very thing he was trying to prevent. Justice doesn’t take threats lightly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who does?” Varric clutched more tightly at Anders. “If Rivaini and I hadn’t showed up when we did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varric,” Anders whispered before he could finish, giving him a gentle kiss. “I’m okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric took a shaky breath and nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is Hawke now?” Anders asked then, not sure if he actually wanted to hear the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better for the moment, at least. He’s resting now. That stuff you gave me worked like a charm.” Varric’s expression softened. “He even asked about you. If he’d hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking in surprise at that, Anders decided to take it as a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too early to hope for much, but I do think he’s turned a corner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs time to heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric’s eyes focused on Anders again, a strange look in them, half amusement and half something else, a deeper emotion that made Anders a little uncomfortable. “How can you forgive him so easily?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly easy, but the man who attacked me wasn’t Hawke. Not the Hawke who showed up here a few years ago asking after my Grey Warden maps, the man who often disagrees with me but also defends me in battle without hesitation. He hasn’t always been kind to me, but I’ve never felt afraid of him until recently.” He swallowed and looked away from Varric’s keen gaze. “Justice won’t forgive him. It isn’t in his nature to forgive. But maybe that’s also why I feel like I should. Hawke overreacted to his fears, but he wasn’t wrong to be concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric quickly steered them away from that particular topic. “I imagine I’m not Justice’s favorite person right now either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders frowned, but then considered the question more deeply, hearing Justice’s begrudging grumble of consent at the back of his mind and realizing that the spirit might not be quite as unreasonable as he had been acting of late. “I think...he’s actually starting to understand that I need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling softly, Varric shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just realized that this is also my first threesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter that comment inspired was almost more of a relief than everything else they’d done. Anders felt as if he hadn’t laughed in years, and when Varric joined him it only made him laugh harder. Sides aching and out of breath, he finally stifled his giggles long enough to say, “Lucky for you that Justice doesn’t like to participate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I don’t know,” Varric said, still chuckling a bit. “Now I’m intrigued.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Anders didn’t believe for a moment that Varric was actually interested in Justice joining their activities. “I thought you were an Andersexual,” he protested in mock annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. But he’s a part of you, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow this expression of complete acceptance struck deeper than anything else Varric had said and Anders felt emotion welling up inside of him that he didn’t have the energy to deal with at the moment. Either he didn’t know how to voice the feelings or he wasn’t ready to say them out loud, but he found that he couldn’t contain them regardless. Leaning forward, he kissed Varric, pouring all of his unspoken feelings into the kiss, and before he knew it they were on their way to something else and his exhaustion was temporarily forgotten. Luckily, Varric hadn’t been exaggerating about his stamina. He had enough for both of them. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One chapter left!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hawke! On your right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dodging the spear tip and swinging his massive blade around to finish the Qunari, Hawke nodded at Anders in gratitude before wading back into the fray. Varric covered his flank with a barrage of bolts and kept an eye on Anders out of the corner of his eye. He never let the mage very far out of his sight in a fight these days, knowing how little attention Anders gave to his own well-being when Justice was running the show. The spirit was shockingly powerful–an unintentional pun–but Justice seemed to think he was actually invincible when Anders called on him in a fight and that simply wasn’t the case. Anders always suffered the consequences when Justice was reckless in battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the last Qunari fell, Hawke made a triumphant sound and kicked the fallen warrior for good measure. “Finally,” he said. “This had better be the last pocket of Tal-Vashoth. I’m ready for a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and me both, sweet thing,” Isabela said, wiping her daggers off on a fallen warrior and grinning at Hawke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone need healing?” Anders offered, noticing the cut on Isabela’s arm and walking over to take care of it, earning a little kiss on the cheek for his trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke exchanged a glance with Varric at the gesture, but Varric only shrugged. Isabela was generous with affection and Anders was hungry enough for touch of any kind that Varric knew better than to think he could provide for all of the mage’s needs alone. He didn’t think that Isabela’s affection went beyond casual touches, but he tried not to think too hard about such things. He was better off not knowing. Anders knew Varric was the monogamous sort and Varric knew Anders was not the type to be pinned down by anything or anyone. Knowing this about each other was not the same as actually discussing their feelings on the topic, but neither of them had gathered the confidence to broach the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving on to Hawke, Anders took a look at a slice on his torso, and Hawke lifted his arm for easier access. The two of them were almost back to normal finally. While Hawke was still critical of Anders’ obsession with the “plight of the mages,” his angry, violent outbursts had ended the night that he finally acknowledged his grief. He’d avoided Anders for some time after that, but eventually they had a conversation–supervised from a distance by Varric and Isabela–and worked through everything that had happened. Hawke was still grieving and still had dark days, but overall he was behaving much more like the sarcastic warrior that Varric had first befriended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to the Hanged Man?” Isabela asked when the blue glow had faded from Anders’ fingertips. “Race you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thanks,” Hawke teased, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her down the mountain path. “I think we should take our time. That’s a nice sunset, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders smiled as they walked away and then turned to Varric, inspecting him with a healer’s scrutiny. He somehow found the bruise on Varric’s side from where a Qunari had hit him with the blunt end of a spear even though the injury was hidden by layers of fabric. Varric had never figured out how he managed to do that but he supposed it was a magic thing. Sliding his hand inside Varric’s tunic to get better access to the injury, his brows gathered together as he worked and Varric tried not to move even though he wanted to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is direct contact really necessary for that?” he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to see Anders admit that he was flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders turned the touch into a caress when the healing was done, not even a hint of shame in his expression. “No, but I hardly think I need to have an excuse to touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good point.” Catching his hand as he pulled away and folding it into his own, Varric tugged him toward the path down the hill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hanged Man was rowdy and loud, just as Varric liked it. He pulled Anders close as they navigated through the crowd, waving at the others and directing them up to his room. Several of their other friends showed up before they could even get settled around the table with their drinks and soon they were all swapping stories and laughing as Varric distributed cards for a game of Wicked Grace. While tensions with the Qunari had been escalating and Isabela had been acting more and more distracted by it all of late, the drama amongst the group had eased significantly over the last several months. Even Anders seemed to have gained some equilibrium with Justice, channeling the spirit’s fervor into a manifesto he had started writing–with only a few tips here and there from Varric to make it more persuasive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric’s hand naturally fell to Anders’ knee under the table as they played and he could tell by the little smile on the mage’s lips that he appreciated the contact. Glancing down at his cards, Varric knew that he didn’t have the guts to bluff about such a meager hand and decided to fold. He noticed Isabela watching him over her cards and thought she was focused on the game until he saw her glance down at Anders’ lap beside her. Smirking and lifting a brow, she made it clear that she’d noticed where his hand was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just to tease her–and Anders he supposed–Varric let his hand trail further up the mage’s thigh before spreading his fingers possessively. Anders glanced at him, but the look in his eyes was warm and he shifted his knee to brush against Varric’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Isabela leaned closer to Anders, “So, what does a girl have to do to get in on this?” Varric took that to mean that nothing had been going on between the two of them on the side but it also confirmed that Isabela’s casual touches hadn’t actually been all that casual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders glanced at her, and Varric wasn’t sure if the mage was intentionally playing dumb or if it was possible that he actually didn’t understand the question. “In on what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slow, hungry smile curved Isabela’s lips and she glanced down at Varric’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rivaini...” Varric said in warning, a growl in his voice as his fingers tightened their grip automatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She sat back and flung her hands up in innocence. “I’m not asking for much. I’d be content just to watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Varric said firmly, afraid to meet Anders’ eyes and find out if he was being too possessive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was more than willing to share him before,” Isabela protested. “Why are you being so stingy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders laughed then and Varric finally looked at him, relieved to see that he didn’t seem to mind Varric’s decision. “He already has to share me with Justice. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming, Isabela touched a finger to her lips and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Does that mean that you and Justice...you know? I always wondered…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing again, Anders shook his head vigorously. “No! That’s not at all what I meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isabela,” Hawke said sharply from the other side of the table, his voice cutting through all the other conversations in the room. “Do I need to switch places with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she sighed. “Not sure if I can contain myself beside these two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stalking around the table, Hawke pulled Isabela up with a grin and their playfighting quickly turned into something a little closer to foreplay, all sloppy kisses and groping hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, go find a room,” Aveline complained loudly before shoving the rest of her coin into the middle of the table and giving Fenris a serious look. “All in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merrill gasped, watching Fenris’ reaction as he grimaced and splayed his abysmal cards on the table, a collection that was even worse than Varric’s had been. “Take it,” Fenris sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aveline made a sound that was very unlike her before collecting her winnings, a laugh that was more akin to a giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noticing that Anders’ attention was still focused on him, Varric dragged his gaze away from the spectacle with a smile that quickly faded when he saw the serious look on the mage’s face. “Something wrong, Blondie?” Varric asked, feeling worry gathering at the pit of his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act like that before,” Anders replied, chin propped up on his palm as he studied Varric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Varric apologized automatically. He released Anders’ leg with a little squeeze and began collecting the cards the others were shoving down the table at him. “You know I wasn’t speaking for you, I hope. Just because I’m not interested doesn’t mean…” He trailed off when he saw the amusement in Anders’ eyes. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders covered Varric’s hand with his own–at least as much of it as he could; the mage had long fingers, but Varric’s hands were about twice as broad as his. “If you’re not interested, then I’m not interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure about that, Blondie? I don’t want to hold you hostage.” The words hurt to say because Varric wasn’t sure if he honestly meant them, but his intentions were true if nothing else. He wanted Anders to be happy, whatever that required.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing dreamily, Anders shook his head at Varric and then leaned forward to press a kiss against his temple. “How could I be satisfied with anyone else when you love me that much? I don’t know what I ever did so right as to deserve you, but it makes me consider actually visiting a chantry to say a prayer of gratitude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric didn’t want to admit how much of a relief it was to hear that, so he deflected as usual. Rolling his eyes, he scolded, “What did we discuss about you selling yourself short, Blondie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders pouted, but the glitter of mischief in his eyes belied the expression. “I forgot. Maybe you should tell me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric put the deck of cards down and reached up to cup the side of Anders’ face. “As many times as you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re not going to shuffle, then pass the cards down here,” Fenris grumbled, shattering the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glaring at Varric’s hands suspiciously, Aveline said, “I would prefer he didn’t deal anyway. I have a bad feeling that those hands have been doing something I don’t want to know about under the table.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris groaned and reached for the deck of cards. “Can we all just focus here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to focus with all the interruptions,” Aveline said sourly. “There is far too much romance in this group these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s sweet,” Merrill said, still leaning to look out the door while Hawke and Isabela maneuvered themselves to Isabela’s room without breaking contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I recall,” Anders pointed out, “it wasn’t so long ago that we all went to great lengths to set you up with your husband, Aveline. Or have you forgotten?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hardly great lengths!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Blondie’s right,” Varric laughed. “We barely managed to save you from yourself long enough to finish the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I don’t subject the rest of you to our lovemaking,” Aveline scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you not call it that?” Fenris said, dealing out the cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anders laughed and Varric felt a tug in his heart at the sound. Seeing the mage acting so carefree and joyful was still a revelation to him, and as he regarded those golden eyes full of mirth and the worn lines of his face softened by the flickers of firelight, Varric realized that he wasn’t going to be able keep his hands off Anders for much longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you all want to see me doing things with my hands that will scar your eyes forever,” Varric announced, “I think we’d better make this the last game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aveline and Fenris both narrowed their eyes at him while Merrill giggled happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your fault, mage,” Fenris snapped, glowering at his cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once Anders seemed happy to accept the blame. “Yes, I suppose it is.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This felt like the natural conclusion to the story even though I know it leaves things unresolved as far as what will happen in the third act of the game. I'd like to think that Anders would be able to find a bit more control over Justice because of Varric's support and that he might be able to avoid the decisions he made in the end, but if I decide to explore that at some point I think it would be in a separate story. Hope you enjoyed the ending. I'd love to hear your thoughts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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